


The Big Picture

by Saje



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Humor, Brian's journey after the end of the series. Some violence, Comic Book References, Danger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Female Homosexuality, Gen, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, breeder sex, occasional humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 185,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saje/pseuds/Saje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are bigger things afoot than a simple move to New York.<br/>Post 513<br/>Facing demons past and present can be life altering.<br/>Novel length, work in progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Comments keep me motivated. Please let me know what you think.  
> Disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer.

 

Chapter 1

 

                                                                                Fall 2007

 

                I taught you to fight and to fly. What more is there?

                J.M. Barrie

 

 

Brian awoke in a sweat, the lingering nightmare wrapping like coils around his chest making it hard to breathe. _They're getting worse._ Gooseflesh covered his skin and he didn't like that outward sign of weakness. He had convinced himself for years he was rid of those dreams. They had become so infrequent, as to be almost forgettable. Except that now they weren't, and were dangerously close to becoming the rule rather than the exception. Leaving the bed, he walked naked to the adjoining bath and turned on the shower, then leaned in close to the mirror over the sink to study his reflection. His hazel eyes were clouded and the pupils were dilated. He could still read the fear written there and in the tightness around his mouth. He had not slept well in months, telling himself it was the stresses of owning his own company and moving to New York City, but he knew better. The new offices of Kinnetik were up and running, and thanks to Cynthia, needed very little oversight. He stepped into the shower and after setting the spray to massage, let the very hot water do its job on his shoulders.

Rubbing a hand over his face he admitted to himself that he would probably not be able to keep it a secret from Justin for much longer. He had some decisions to make and knew he had only made it worse for himself by moving here. He should have opened the new branch and then gone home to Pittsburgh, letting the relationship with Justin run its course and die a natural death. But, like his other addictions, it was hard to let it go. Admitting that Justin was indeed an addiction had been a hard pill to swallow. He represented life, and happiness, and the idealism that only the very young and/or well -heeled could truly have. Brian had never had that, and was drawn to it like a moth to flame. Hovering in its light until he got too close, risking smothering the flame, and being burned himself.

He shampooed his hair and decided that, for all concerned, he needed to do what had to be done whether he liked it or not. He had already delayed for too long and now he had to act or he would lose his chance. It should have come with Justin's flight to New York, but like any addiction, the temptation had been irresistible and Brian kicked himself in the ass for being persuaded by sunny smiles and laughing blue eyes.

Turning off the taps, he wrapped a towel around his waist and sauntered through the penthouse apartment to the living area and the coffee table where he had left his smokes. Pulling one out and lighting it he looked out the wall of windows at the city as it came out of night and bloomed before him. Most people thought he did it to feel superior, but for Brian, the bigger the vista the more he felt connected and grounded. The big picture, for him, encompassed all that he could see and his dreams filled in what eyes could not. He was irritated at himself for putting off what should have been in motion by now, and the fleeting images of Justin's face, so in love, reminded him why it wasn't. _Love sucks_ , and his heart pinched with the thought of having to let go. But Brian had always prided himself on assessing a situation and making the right decision, even if he was the one left broken.

Forcibly ejecting those thoughts he finished his cigarette and snuffed it out in the ashtray on the sill. Letting the towel drop he stood in the first rays of morning and reveled in himself. Stretching like a feline and admiring the way his tanned skin flowed over smooth muscle. He reminded himself that he had to spend a little more time on the treadmill today as punishment for his decadent dessert the night before. When the visual of _where_ he had eaten that delight from came to mind, he smiled and went about getting dressed for work.

As he was leaving, he turned, and assessed the apartment briefly as he always did and noted that everything was in its place and the crisp clean environment both calmed and pleased him in a way that he was reluctant to define, and even less interested in analyzing. Shutting the door and locking it he went downstairs to be driven to the office by the service he now owned, and once inside the sleek town car he pulled out his cell to call Justin and ask if he could make time for lunch at his office.

 

*************************************************************************************

Justin was still riding high on the success of his first solo showing the night before and was still amazed that it had sold out. He and Brian had celebrated by stopping in at his favorite bakery on the way home and ordering several sinful delicacies that had made the exploits that followed both delicious and messy. He was still wearing a self-satisfied leer when Brian called and asked him to lunch. His heart flipped happily and he wondered if Brian could hear the lust still coursing through his body when he agreed. Of course he could. He was Brian after all. And Justin knew his thoughts were caught out when Brian's voice dropped two sultry octaves and said "later."

Justin didn't know if he was going to be able to wait that long. _Maybe I should just jack off a few times before I go so it's not so easy for him. Make him work for it for once._ Wouldn't that be interesting? Chuckling to himself he went back to the huge canvas and gave in to his euphoria.

At eleven he stopped working and grabbed a shower in the tiny bathroom in the far corner of the studio. Brian had purchased the space shortly after coming to New York and seeing the far less adequate space that Justin had been working in and barely affording. Justin had half- heartedly declined the generosity but Brian had argued that a larger space allowed for more work to get done and he was investing in Justin's future. Once he'd found out that Brian had already signed the deal on the property he had no qualms about moving in. It was an old factory building that had been gutted to the bare brick and though it was two stories tall there was only the ground floor with the upper structure given over to windows that had vented the fumes of whatever had been manufactured there back in the day. Justin loved it and the man that had provided it. Brian had been correct in that the larger area allowed him to work on several pieces at once and therefore be more productive.

Toweling his hair he looked out the window at the sprawling expanse of Brian's latest creation. The man was a genius. He had bought this decrepit piece of real estate from the city for a song and with generous tax benefits. It had been an eyesore, and the powers that be had allowed the sale with minimum fuss just so it could be someone else's problem. The first thing he had done was make sure that the studio met all of Justin's requirements. Then had all the detritus of decay removed, in some cases with a bulldozer. The actual plot was over six acres and was crisscrossed with railroad tracks. The back of the lot, where the studio was, had originally been a way station for changing and filling railcars while the front had been a beautiful train station built in the mid 1800's. It had been almost unsalvageable but Brian had pumped a huge amount of money into the project and had even hired some of the people living in the area for most of the manual labor. He hired experts in restoration and when necessary, flew in artisans skilled enough to replicate what could not be restored. He had set up a loose apprentice program so that while everyone was working, those that wanted to learn were paired up with those that were skilled. It had worked out very well and many of them were now employed by one or another of Brian's companies.

Justin smiled at that thought. Brian now owned at least a dozen companies he knew of and probably more that he didn't. His fierce attention to detail and utter contempt for the way his project was being handled had led to Brian taking the owner of the restoration construction company to court. The company itself had come highly recommended but, Brian being Brian, had done some research on his own after one of the independent artisans had come to see him. His name was Alban Templeton and Brian had taken a liking to him almost immediately. He was stick thin and wore his long gray hair in a ponytail and his even longer beard in two braids that hung halfway down his chest. He came right out and told Brian that he thought the materials for the building were being downgraded where possible and the foreman and maybe even the owner were pocketing the difference. He had said that it was not his place to judge, but that he had been hired to craft some of the more intricate ornamentations and that meant certain very expensive materials. When he had been given inferior substitutes it had piqued his interest and he made discreet inquiries among some of the other artisans. Then he'd come straight to Brian and without preamble said "Yer bein' screwed Mr. Kinney, and I know a smart man when I see one so no offense meant. But if'n ya know what to be lookin' for ya could miss it just the same. Just thought ya might want to know." So Brian had researched and talked to the other artisans and then hired a top notch attorney. The lawsuit settled out of court for an exorbitant sum, bankrupting the owner. The man's very public embarrassment was proof that no one fucked with Brian Kinney. He had then acquired the company's holdings at auction and rehired any employees wanting to come back. Six months later, when he was sure it would stay solvent he invited the employees to partner him in ownership. They had agreed and the project was done in record time. When asked about it for an article in the Times, Brian had deflected any praise by saying he knew nothing about construction work and the business was in better hands with the employees and his involvement was merely advisory.

The finished building was christened "Kinney Track" three weeks ago with a party that had been attended by some of the most elite of moneyed society as well as the lowest paid employee. All had rubbed shoulders, conversed, and danced in what turned out to be front page news the next morning.

With the new offices of Kinnetik housed safely inside its vaulted glass ceiling, Brian had turned his attention to other parts of the property. Plans had been drawn up for a mid-sized luxury hotel to house any current or potential clients while they were consulting with Kinnetik. The art and creative departments were currently inside the station, as they called it, but Brian had foreseen the possibility of growing large enough, that the space would be needed for more offices and the creative end would need its own facility. Hence the two new construction sites on the back edge of the property. It was a big undertaking, but that was Brian. If you can think it, you can do it, and he was adamant that the new buildings be finished in less than six months from now, and damned if it didn't look like he would get his way.

Justin noted he'd been standing there longer than he had planned and jerked on a clean, but still paint splattered, pair of jeans. Slipping into a pair of canvas loafers and pulling on a faded tee he took off across the remaining railroad tracks towards the station and the brilliance of a man he could not get enough of.

*************************************************************************************

Brian's office was the only completely soundproofed space inside the station. It was nestled just under the curve of glass panes that made up the roof itself. The original structure had been some kind of overseers post, but he had had that torn down and his new office constructed at the same level but on a much larger scale. Cynthia and Theodore each had one of their own to either side of his and iron walkways connected them in what should have been an eyesore but strangely kept the beauty of the rail industry intact.

Brian smiled when he saw Justin realize he might be late and set the binoculars in his drawer before turning back to the window. The prize in the box, for Brian, had been being able to construct his office in this specific spot in the building. It made sense from the ground floor and had been the original placement to begin with but upon moving in he realized that the elevation and the alignment with the studio, gave him the perfect vantage point to watch Justin whenever he wanted.

He saw the studio door swing open, and bright sunlight gleamed in messy blonde hair. Justin took off at a run and Brian let Cynthia know he was off the grid for the next two hours. He set his desk to look like he had actually been working, focused on his computer screen and waited.

It was not long, and Brian could hear footsteps running up the iron spiral staircase towards him. His office door was flung open and slammed shut and when he looked up, it was to see Justin launch across his desk and land in his lap.

Brian was not surprised when his face was covered with kisses and his tie disappeared. Warm hands sought his flesh and discarded anything in the way. He was rock hard already and together they removed the rest of each other's clothes. Justin could not be still, his tongue and hands roamed over tanned skin and Brian watched, mesmerized by the play of light on dark.

"So what's for lunch?"

"Mmm, I think I'll eat your cock first," Brian set Justin on the edge of his desk and pushed him backwards until he was leaning back on his arms. Sitting in his chair he positioned himself between pale thighs and licked his way to the prize while guiding feet to the armrests. _He's gonna beg before we're done._ He took the entire length of Justin's dick in his mouth and watched as his eyes closed and he drew in a shaky breath. Brian gave all his attention to bringing his lover to the brink and when Justin's body gave the signal that he was going to cum, he abruptly stopped and leaned back into his chair.

Justin's eyes popped open and the bewilderment was evident. "Why'd you stop?"

Brian said nothing, just using his hands to turn him around laying him across the desk and once he was settled, sat in his chair again, admiring the view of Justin's ass. A few seconds passed. When the blonde head turned to question, Brian grabbed an ass cheek in each hand and squeezed hard enough to bruise. _Don't question, just feel._ Then he buried his face between them, using his tongue to drive Justin crazy with need again, while stroking his back as it arched. They were both panting when Justin came close to release and Brian stopped again. Grunting in frustration, Justin made to turn around, but was shoved back down and held there by the hand in the middle of his shoulders. Neither gentle nor mean, just firm. _Stay._

Brian donned a condom one-handed, stood with his dick pressing against pale ass and bent so he could touch Justin with his entire body and the sensation that filled him was intoxicating. Heart pounding, emotion swelling, he nuzzled his face into that sweet spot of neck he liked so much and slowly pressed himself into Justin's body, inch by glorious inch, until they were one. Staying there motionless, until he knew he had his lover's attention. He breathed into his neck, "I love you", marveling at glistening blue eyes that reflected the same. He withdrew on a smooth glide and allowed his hands to caress and linger where they would while he reentered with the same effortless stroke, angling slightly to make sure pleasure was given but did not increase the pace. Just smooth riding and gentle touches telling with his body all the things he could not say aloud. Worshipping the man beneath him and making a memory to hold close when his arms were empty, committing this interlude to the secret vault deep inside. It contained only the best of their time together. When he knew Justin was at the brink he allowed himself one last kiss and let himself go, synchronicity at its best. Sated and loose, they stayed there until Justin noticed the aroma of food, and the moment was gone.

                                 ****************************************************

Emmett and Michael were at the Liberty Diner tearing through the newspaper. Both were anxious to see the review of Justin's show and were not surprised when Debbie managed to be back at their table by the time they found it. She slid into the booth behind them peering over their shoulders as they read.

_"Justin Taylor, an up and comer, showed both passion and ability in his earlier works upon his arrival in New York. He was well received by the art world and we all anticipated his first solo show."_

"Aww, isn't that nice?" Emmett smiled.

Michael kept reading aloud.

" _But I am unsure if the pieces I saw last night, can compare to the standard those earlier works set. While aesthetically pleasing, they lack the raw emotion and sexual intensity that we have come to expect from his work."_

The three of them looked at each other, no one was smiling anymore.

" _One wonders if Justin had not been so busy setting up house, if his work would have lived up to the promise we were given a year ago. Since the show did sell out, it begs a question. Was the show a success because Justin Taylor art is great, or because Brian Kinney marketing is better?"_

Emmett refolded the paper and slid it to the other side of the table like it was contaminated.

"Jesus," Debbie blurted. "He made Justin sound like some housewife with a hobby." Not knowing what else to say she moved off to wait on another table.

"Do you think I should call him, Em?" Michael sounded like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

"I don't know sweetie. If he hasn't seen it yet, you probably don't want to be the first to tell him. Besides, Justin never holds back when he's got something to say, so I think in this case, silence is golden, hmm?"

"I guess so. Do you think Brian has seen it?" Emmett just gave him a look that said, you think he hasn't?

Finishing lunch without another word they settled the bill and parted. Emmett was off to meet with a new client about a birthday party, and Michael to the airport to meet Ben in Philadelphia. Both of them with mixed feelings about what to say if Justin should call.

*************************************************************************************

As it happened, it was Ted that unknowingly broke the silence. Justin was back in the studio working on a very large painting he had started that morning when sleep and had eluded him. Music filled the room and the he sang along with the song "Happy" as he completed the base color on the canvas. Rinsing his brushes he set them to drain when the phone rang. Using the remote in his pocket to turn off the stereo he answered.

"Hey, Ted, how'sit going?" Justin asked while opening a cola and swigging the contents.

"Uh, fine, I guess, um thanks for asking." Ted was a little confused by Justin's sunny tone.

"If you're looking for Brian, he's not here. I left him in the office a coupla hours ago and I don't think he had a meeting but I'll give him a message if you want."

"Uh, no no I wasn't calling for Brian. I was actually calling for you, to uh, you know, see if you were okay. But you seem to be fine so I'll let you go.."

"Why would anything be wrong Ted? The show was great! Lunch was greater! And I'm walkin' on sunshine!"

"Oh, well, okay then. I'll let you go then if you're sure you're not upset about.." he trailed off, not wanting to bring it up.

"Why would I be upset?" No answer. "Teddy?"

"Well I thought, ah, since the review wasn't, you know, favorable, that uh, you might want to talk to someone about it." Ted was wishing that a hole would open under him and extricate him from the situation.

"I haven't read it yet. I just figured since everything sold that it would be good." He sat on a stool and searched the web for the article. It was a good thing that Ted made an excuse to get off the phone because Justin set it down while he read. Then he read it again. By the fourth time he conceded that it was not going to change and his disappointment shrouded him. Hurt brought tears he refused to let fall and slowly it turned to anger when he realized that Brian had most likely read it first thing this morning. The more he thought about their lunch together the more he felt like Brian had been consoling. It made sense and it pissed him off. Why hadn't he said anything? He had to be pissed too, right? He should be pissed!

Justin got his wallet and keys then called Cynthia to ask her to tell Brian he was going home.

*************************************************************************************

Brian was already at home and sitting at his desk when Justin stormed in. He quickly hit send on the document he had written so he couldn't change his mind and shut the computer down. He figured this was going to be ugly but there was no help for it. Justin had to be handled carefully if he was going to pull this off in a way that wouldn't have the younger man coming back. He carried his glass of whiskey and the bottle toward the living room, but stopped dead in the shadow of the door. The tableau that was unfolding was mindboggling. Justin had brought home three tricks and was currently stripping in jerking motions while his companions brought hands and mouths to exposed flesh. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Justin was in a mood to burn through his emotions the old fashioned Kinney way. By fucking. Repeatedly, if all indications were correct. _So now he knows._

Brian refilled his glass and sat on the floor with legs outstretched to watch in silence. Justin pulled a handful of condoms and a tube of lube out of his pocket and handed one to the guy on his left without even looking at him. Once Justin was encased, he bent number one over the back of the couch, lubed him, and practically snarled when he penetrated. It was hard and fast, Brian could not look away and was unsure why he wanted to. Justin could only be seen in the mass of writhing bodies in quick flashes of his milky skin. It was over quickly and Justin tossed the condom on the floor, immediately replacing it with another. The first man was replaced by the second, while the third sat below their spread legs and sucked number two's dick while number one went back to touching Justin and began stroking himself. Justin's growls were punctuated by the lusty moans of his guests, harsh breathing a testament to the prowess of Brian's disciple. Head thrown back he looked to be begging the god's for something and he shouted out when he came. The condom hit the floor. Brian refilled his glass. All hands and mouths were on his partner now, teamed up to bring on another erection. Justin's eyes were closed, completely engrossed in sensation and unaware of his audience. He grabbed and yanked at his companions and they reciprocated the rough play. It wasn't long before he had number three bucking and panting out his release all over number two's chest.

_Christ he's beautiful. And hurting over the review._

Brian forwent the glass this time and swigged straight from the bottle, hoping to be drunk enough not to care about anything, most of all Justin's feelings. He had to do this. He knew it, but tilting his head back to the wall he allowed that he didn't want to. Taking another drink he watched as Justin angrily picked up clothes, tossing them at the three amigos, not caring who they belonged to as he herded them towards the door, slamming it behind them. Prowling the living room, lighting a cigarette and muttering under his breath he barely caught the movement. He whirled and focused in on Brian as he stood up awkwardly in the doorframe.

"The student becomes the master. Well done grasshopper." Lifting the bottle in a mock toast, downing another shot.

"You knew didn't you." Not a question, and no answer forthcoming.

"Why didn't you say something?" Justin demanded. "Why didn't…."

"Because I didn't want to, alright? Besides, who cares anyway?" He drained the bottle but held on to it like a lifeline.

"You don't care. Of course you don't care. You're Brian fucking Kinney who doesn't care. Doesn't that get old?" He could not have hidden the bitterness in his voice even had he wanted to. Brian just wanted to hold him, make everything better, knew that he couldn't. He could see the anguish that rode high on Justin's cheeks as he seemed to come to some internal conclusion. With his anger evident in every motion he dressed and left without saying anything else.

Brian just stood there, knowing he should let it be, but feeling that he owed an apology and not sure what his next step would be. Belatedly realizing that the three amigos had born a resemblance, on the surface at least to himself, the only conclusion available became obvious. Justin had not been fucking away his feelings, he had been punishing surrogates. Brian threw the empty bottle at the wall with a curse and found no relief in its shattered remains. So he did what he did best. He opened another bottle and put up another wall around his heart.

*************************************************************************************

Two hours later, he was so intoxicated that he barely comprehended the ringing phone. The answering machine picked up and he heard Cynthia's voice.

"Brian, I know you're there, pick up the phone." She sounded irritated. _Too bad._

"Fine, brood. It's what you do best. Okay, probably second best." _The minx. She knew him well._ "Are you sure this is what you want to send? I mean, seriously?" She sighed in resignation. "Alright, I'll send it in but make sure to wear your big boy pants because the shit just got real. And Brian, I'm sorry it had to.."

Brian jerked the cord out of the wall before he could hear the rest of what she was going to say. He didn't want sorry, or pity, or anything else that made him feel less…..whatever.

His mind was trapped in an endless loop of Justin and the three amigos. _Fuck, he was hard just thinking about it, and how fucked up was that?_ He knew Justin was pissed and he was responsible for the hurt. That last part had been unanticipated and he hated feeling like he should apologize. _Fuck that shit._

His cell rang, and because he had been thinking of Justin, he answered hoping that his thoughts had influenced reality.

"Hey, Bri" no such luck.

"I'm on my way out Theodore, whatever it is can wait 'til morning." He slurred.

"Actually I called because I thought you might want a friendly ear…"

"I don't want your ear, or any other of your friendly parts." Brian sneeringly mocked. He hung up before the older man could launch into one of his well-meaning and often too insightful speeches. He felt bad for about half a second before acknowledging that Ted _knew_ he was an asshole and let it go. Pocketing the cell his keys, he left.

*************************************************************************************

Ted wasn't sure how to proceed. He was still in his office at the station and had been closing his windows when he saw Justin return to the studio across the expanse of the rail yard. He waited a few minutes thinking the youngster must have forgotten something and would be leaving again soon. After an hour he concluded it wasn't in the cards, and decided to call Brian. Figuring correctly they had had some kind of tiff and thinking he could make up for his earlier conversation with Justin by being there for Brian, should he want to talk about it. Convoluted, sure, but it made perfect sense to Ted, since he felt he owed Brian for just about everything. His sobriety, his job, and the security only a large bank account and portfolio could manage. Brian had also taught him more about advertising than Ted had ever thought he would need to know. Looking back on it now, Ted was aware that Brian had been grooming him to take over the well-established accounts that needed little maintenance, while leaving the newer and prospective clients for the dynamic duo of Brian and Cynthia.

So he made the call to offer a shoulder to cry on. _Not that Brian would ever cry._ Ted scoffed to himself.

He had barely squeaked out a greeting before Brian had drunkenly cut him off. _Oh well, can't say I didn't try._ He turned the lights off and locked his door intent on getting home. Descending the spiral stairs he decided to call Emmett and see what his thoughts were about the drama Ted was sure would come.

*************************************************************************************

Emmett was doing all he could to make a dignified escape from his new client. Her name was Margaret Morgan (of **_the_** _Morgans)_ , whatever in the hell that was supposed to mean. She was in her late seventies and under the expertly applied make up, looked every day of those years. She was perfectly coiffed, and her clothing certainly spoke of quality, as did her stately home and the parlor in which he was currently prisoned. This initial meeting should not have taken longer than an hour, but was running up on three. He didn't really have anywhere else to be, but he was becoming more anxious as time wore on. Margaret seemed to have an opinion about every single aspect of the birthday party she wanted to throw for her great granddaughter. Emmett figured since she was so adamant about every minutia, she should forget him and do the party herself. When he had pointed that out, politely, she had tittered, saying "Oh no dear, I don't know anything about what's popular these days or what a sixteen year old would want."

She had then launched into a detailed monologue about her youth that had encompassed thirty years, four marriages, and the last two hours of his life. He politely drank his coffee, nodding when he figured it was appropriate, and wished upon a star that he had never come here in the first place. Thinking he might be able to slip out unnoticed if he went to the bathroom, he set his cup down and was about to ask directions when his phone chirped.

"Excuse me please, but I really need to take this call." He made a beeline for the front hall's relative privacy.

"Oh my God, Ted, you just saved my life. I can't really talk right now but I'll call you when I get home okay, but right now I just need to get out of here." He stepped back into the parlor to let Margaret know that he had to leave, beating a retreat as fast as his legs could politely carry him.

*************************************************************************************

Brian quietly entered the studio but stood in the shadows by the door preferring for the moment to watch Justin work. A secret pleasure he had never shared and one that he would be living without all too soon. A deep sense of loss settled over him and he rubbed his own fingers out of habit. It was a self -comforting gesture from childhood that he had yet to overcome. Music blared from the stereo in hard metal that seemed to suit the artist and his frame of mind. _He's so easy to read. Was I ever that open? Was I ever that young?_ No, hence his addiction with the man. He could not get enough of the love and attention that Justin showered on him every day. It almost made him feel worthy. Almost made him forget all the reasons he wasn't. Could almost make him forget the plan, and had for far too long. Seven years had seen the younger man grow in so many ways and in others not at all. _It's my fault. I've held him back. He's angry and hurt because he senses it, but can't quite know it yet._ So he watched.

************************************************************************************

The last words of the review repeated incessantly in Justin's head causing his gut to clench every time.

" _Was the show a success because Justin Taylor art is great, or because Brian Kinney marketing is better?"_

Jesus. That hurt. Even here, in the art world, he was in Brian's shadow, an accessory. He had a hard time reconciling his love for the man and a need to have his own identity. Wasn't that why he had come here in the first place and why Brian had resisted following for almost six months? _Shit!_ Looking back on it, Brian had probably seen it coming and damn if he hadn't been right again. Justin's foul mood twisted itself into anger at himself for insisting that Brian handle his promotion, and at Brian for foreseeing the results and doing it anyway. He paused then lighting a cigarette, and tossed the pack on the worktable behind him. Crossing his arms he looked at nothing in particular trying to objectively see the events of the day clearly. It had started out wonderful, turning to blissful at lunch. Brian had held nothing back in their lovemaking. _God, how Brian hates that word._ But Justin had felt it just the same. No fucking today. Justin had greedily taken the gift that he had been given and gloried in the fact he had been given it in the first place. Accepting that Brian did not give of himself that way very often was hard to do and left him craving more, making the betrayal he felt so much more profound. _Maybe he didn't know. How could he have known and then made love to me like that? He's Brian, for fuck's sake, of course he knew!_ And now he was back where he started. Anger, hurt, and betrayal burning bitter in his gut and wishing he could do something about it.

Justin went back to work ignoring the paint that splattered him. No matter how he went over it in his mind he always ended up in the same place. Frustration lined his face. Turning back to pick up a different color, he noticed Brian standing by the door. His heart leapt with hope, his mind refused to give in to it. Ignoring those beautifully penetrating and questioning eyes he moved back to the canvas and furiously applied the black paint he was so fond of, body practically vibrating rage.

 _So that's the way of it,_ Brian thought. _Not happening. I'm not going to allow it. He doesn't want to talk, that's fine with me._

He pushed off the wall where he was leaning, stripped his clothes and left them on a nearby crate. He stalked up behind Justin and grabbed the hair on the back of his head while wrapping his other arm around his torso. Tugging the shorter man's head to the side, exposing his neck, he bent and attacked with lips and teeth while he stroked Justin's cock through his pants. Justin's body stiffened as if to pull away, denying Brian's attention, but Brian was not going to allow that. He stroked firmly and bit down on the muscle at the base of Justin's neck just hard enough to sting. _Are you listening?_ Justin stilled. Brian tugged on his hair again and shoved a hand in Justin's pocket pulling out the ever present condom. He pressed it into a paint smeared hand with an accompanying squeeze. He was clearing a space in the middle of the worktable when Justin whirled around ready to fight. He didn't get a chance to say anything, it fact couldn't think of anything to say when Brian supplicated himself over the table. Justin took Brian's elbow and tried to change their positions, but Brian kissed him, hard, leaning their foreheads together briefly. _You can be angry if you want. I can take it. Will take it, if that is what you need from me._ He stretched forward across the surface and gripped the far edge.

Justin saw this for what it was. A way to get the satisfaction the three earlier tricks hadn't come close to achieving. He wanted to punish and Brian was going to let him. He didn't think about why, he just freed his dick and rolled on the condom. Brian inched his hips slightly closer to him and Justin smacked his ass hard enough for Brian to flinch. When he didn't say anything, Justin took it as a sign that he was in control and power fueled the anger he felt swelling inside. He sucked a couple of his fingers, pushed them into that perfect ass, working it quickly open. Brian was practiced at relaxing for his own comfort, but Justin's first thrust sent him balls deep. He sucked in air through clenched teeth and when he reached back to touch Justin, his ass was smacked again and his hand forced back to the table edge. Justin gripped Brian's shoulder in his right hand and jerked him back to meet the second thrust, and the third, and the fourth, setting a pace that had sweat running in rivulets down his body and both of them panting in exertion. Brian's white knuckled grip was the only indication of his turmoil as he stayed motionless with his head averted. The act was purely sexual, animalistic, and lacking Justin's usual finesse. The force of his fucking had the table rocking and some of the paints spilling, pooling where they met Brian's skin. Justin placed his left hand in the colorful mess, and still thrusting, marked his man. He was giddy with ownership when he left a spread fingered handprint on a tanned shoulder blade that turned into a smear running all the way down Brian's back to the indent just above his ass. Seeing his messy paint on Brian's clean perfection sent him over the edge of climax and most of his fury drained away with his release, leaving him with a vague sense of self-doubt and a healthy dose of reality.

Unable, or unwilling, to look Brian in the face just yet, Justin went to the bathroom to take care of the condom. He spent a few minutes cleaning up but paused on the way back to watch Brian light a cigarette, drawing on it deep enough to have the tip glowing brightly, then watched, as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, absently rubbing a palm over his chest as he leaned back against the table crossing his legs at the ankles.

Coming to stand in front of Brian, Justin felt the tears well in his eyes when he saw the damage he had caused. Brian's entire torso was chafed an obscene red from the rough surface of the table and his own inconsiderate pace. But that wasn't the worst of it. Brian was holding his arm at a weird angle over his hips trying to hide something. So he stepped closer, gently pulling it away. Brian continued to smoke, letting his lover see the ramifications of his anger, a lesson in consequences. Justin let out a broken sigh at the hard line already beginning to bruise that spanned from hipbone to hipbone. It finally dawned on him then that Brian had left himself vulnerable by leaving his hips off the table in deference to Justin's shorter height. The tears fell then, silently and Justin trembled. Blue eyes finally sought out hazel, willing to take the rebuke but found none. A strong hand touched the side of his face and pulled him in until their foreheads met. When his breathing slowed he looked up to Brian's face. _I'm so sorry._ He kissed the redness at Brian's collarbone. Brian took Justin's chin between thumb and index finger and turned his head until they were eye to eye again. _I know. I understand. Have I taught you nothing? Sorry is for shit._ With a cocky grin he put out the cigarette and pulled Justin into a full, firm embrace ignoring the pain the contact caused. He played a few minutes, twirling golden locks with his fingers and when he surmised recriminations were over asked half smiling, "Hungry?"

The head nestled below his chin nodded, and he felt rather than saw the answering grin, "Better have it delivered. We look like a couple of nutcases."

*************************************************************************************

Emmett wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a Xanax closely followed by the welcoming comfort of his bed and eight hours of sleep. Knowing he needed to call Ted back he let himself into his apartment and came to the conclusion that phone calls would have to wait until morning. Calvin had let himself in and was waiting, naked, on the chaise in the living room in full view of the front door with a very impressive boner.

"Guess who's back in town, and dying for your attention?" Calvin drawled provocatively, his eyes full of sin.

Emmett closed the door, setting his bag down "Well, I had planned a bath, but I could do with a little southern comfort first." Smiling for the first time in hours he thought how grateful he was to have a fuck buddy. They were friends, sure, but they had quickly come to terms with the fact that a relationship was not what either of them wanted. So they went about their lives, hooking up as time and circumstances permitted and went on their merry ways with no nasty side effects.

Emmett figured Brian had had it right all along, and finally understood the freedom that no attachments allowed him to have. No one demanding to be listened to, or coddled. No one making plans for him or butting their nose in his business. Emmett did what he wanted when he wanted, and walking over to Calvin, decided he wanted sex right now. Grinning from ear to ear he got naked. There would be time for a bath later. He would definitely need one by then.

*************************************************************************************

It was almost midnight when Ben and Michael both realized that neither of them were going to fall asleep. They'd been tossing around in bed trying to get comfortable for over an hour. The hotel room in which they were staying was well appointed, but comfort was not the issue.

"If you want to stay here tomorrow, I'll understand." Ben offered quietly, hoping his husband would agree.

"No, of course not. I want to be there for you and support you." Michael sounded a little too enthusiastic.

"Well it's the last one before we go home, and if you wanted to stay here and get us ready, we could leave as soon as it's over." Ben didn't say that he really didn't want to do the interview anymore.

"This is a big deal, Ben. I want to be there with you in your shining moment. Besides, I've been there for all the others and it wouldn't be right to miss this one." Michael didn't say that he was worried it would end badly.

It was the elephant in the room and they both knew it, though neither would admit it. They didn't keep secrets from one another, but not admitting their worries out loud was their old fall back. If neither copped to it, then it didn't exist. Both stared at the ceiling and sleep was a long time coming.

*************************************************************************************

Everett Ryker sat at the command center in the underground bowels of the station surrounded by monitors and control panels. From here he could watch everything that happened on the compound of Kinney Track and the computers recorded it all. Brian had not been stingy with his money when it came to protecting what he considered his. The fact that it included people in addition to property was not lost on the Marine Raider. His security company was now partnered with Kinnetik, and where Brian led Everett followed. He had built the business from the ground up, staffing it with former military personnel with extensive combat backgrounds and many from Special Forces like himself. Brian had come to him for a consultation when he first purchased the tracks, wanting an expert opinion on the security. Everett had been doing well for himself, but upon reviewing the scope of Brian's needs had originally declined the contract on the grounds of how big it was and his lack of personnel and supplies. Brian had graciously thanked him and left.

Everett lit a clove cigarette, leaning back in his chair grinning to himself. Brian had come back to his office unannounced two weeks later with a contract for partnership and a cashier's check for an amount that caused Everett to almost have a heart attack. Obviously Brian had won him over, and Everett had no complaints about the deal. He made a great amount of money doing what he loved and answered to no one. Well, almost no one. Brian kept out of his way once the initial setup was finished, but getting there had been hell on wheels. Not, that Brian was unreasonable, he was just very…particular. He wanted to know the why of everything that was being done, but once he knew left it to the professionals. Like himself, he did not suffer fools and could be a hard task maker. Everett respected that and the man a great deal, admired him even, for his no guts, no glory way of doing things. "Do it right the first time" seemed to work best for both of them and though they had only known each other for about a year, he considered the younger man a friend, and hoped he did the same.

He made a trip to the breakroom for coffee and was just setting the mug down on the desk when he caught movement on the monitor showing the studio feed. He had thought Justin had left for the night, but was not surprised to see he had come back. What had shocked him enough to keep him watching longer than intended was the savagery of the event on display and the unadulterated pain on Brian's face. Everett had stood and was going to intervene when it dawned on him that Brian was not a captive, not restrained, and would not be there if he didn't want to be. It was graphic, and Everett looked away. He couldn't watch such a confident man, be used and hurt like that. Justin obviously couldn't see his face, because no one could have continued doing that, in light of that much distress. Everett had never seen Brian anything but confident and sexually radiant. Even in humor, he was cool and collected, in control, giving nothing away. Everett looked again. The man lying on the table was another matter. Tension rippled muscle but his expression was heart wrenching. Even with his eyes closed, the sadness was palpable. He looked far too vulnerable and oddly childlike. It was the sheer magnitude of unfiltered emotion that had Everett rooted in place unable to look away again. Brian never let anyone see that much of him and Everett felt ashamed for doing so, even if it was inadvertent. He came to his senses when it seemed to be over and his boss lit up a smoke. Turning off the monitor, he went back to the breakroom. He needed some space to catch his breath, hoping he would never see that look on Brian's face ever again and wondering how he would ever forget, let alone deal with the guilt of knowing.

*************************************************************************************

Cynthia cringed when the knock sounded on her office door. This late, it could only be one of three people. She knew Ted was gone and Brian was back in the studio, leaving Everett as the top choice. She really needed to keep better hours because running into him here late at night was becoming a habit. His seeking her out when he knew she was still here was becoming an even bigger one. She didn't dislike him, per se, he was just…..intimidating. It wasn't anything he said or did, just his presence. He was practically nuclear in sex appeal. Six feet did not make him particularly tall and the ruggedness of his features kept him from being truly handsome but something about him made her feel….unsettled.

"Come in Everett." She called from where she was standing by the window. She mentally pulled herself together and absently smoothed a hand down the front of her blouse before turning to face him.

"Burning the midnight oil again, I see." He said, closing the door behind him, then directing his silver gaze at her. His eyes flicked briefly to the window and an indescribable thought passed over his face, then was gone. He focused on her entirely and his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he smiled, causing his face to look fifteen years younger than his personnel file said he was. It was disarming to say the least.

She took a deep breath and decided that she had better nip this in the bud before it got complicated.

"Look, Everett, I appreciate that you feel the need to look out for me, all of us really, but you need to stop hanging around, giving me special attention." She blushed a little at that and he found it charming.

"Nothing wrong with special attention. Most women would demand it at the top of their lungs." He watched her to see if she had any tells.

When she imperiously replied, "I am not most women." He caught the shadow that flitted over her features and disappeared leaving her firm in her resolve.

 _Time to try a new tactic._ "No ma'am, you certainly are not anything as mundane as that." He agreed, briefly allowing his intentions to show in his face before hiding them away again.

Her pupils dilated, and he rejoiced in the flush that crept up her neck and colored her ears. But she was made of sterner stuff than that, and he could do nothing but admire her when she stiffened her spine and stared back at him saying, "Never mundane." She raised a honey colored eyebrow and cocked her head towards the door inviting him to let himself out and went back to the work on her desk, dismissing him entirely. He chuckled to himself, looking forward to the challenge, and left her to her work.

When he was gone, Cynthia slumped in her seat allowing the jitters to subside before pouring a shot of scotch. Downing it in one gulp, she was forced to admit that Everett was indeed making a play for her. He was handsome, in a non-GQ way, and certainly had more sex appeal than anyone had a right to claim, with his dark hair shot through with silver and matching eyes. She would probably even consider an affair with him as she had with others in the past, but for some reason he was different. It wasn't the whole military thing, which was a huge turn on for her, but a sense that she didn't think she would be able to walk away unscathed when it was over. That was how she liked it. No long term commitments, just getting needs met and a little fun. She was married to her work and liked it that way. No matter how attracted she was to Everett, she could never allow anything to happen between them because she was afraid. Afraid, that in the end, she would not be able to walk away intact.

*************************************************************************************

The next afternoon Brian was standing at the head of the conference table with Cynthia seated next to him leading a staff meeting when Justin stormed in throwing a newspaper at him and hitting him in the chest before it slid to the floor. He yelled "Why'd you do it!"

Justin paced the room like a caged animal, so caught up in himself he failed to notice the response his entrance had elicited. Not so, for everyone else.

They were all well acquainted with Brian's displeasure and did whatever they could not to court it. They all knew two things simultaneously; one: Brian was livid. As evidenced by the immediate and complete stillness of his physical form. Two: The cold glitter of rage lurking in eyes that had gone so dark one could no longer tell the difference between iris and pupil.

Justin practically fumed as he continued to pace, oblivious.

Cynthia tilted her head at the door and the room erupted into pandemonium as the occupants beat a hasty retreat for the exit and the relative safety of their offices. She thought that, in other circumstances people tripping over furniture to escape might be comical, but could not summon a smile. She had warned Brian this could happen and glanced his way. He had not moved.

For now she quickly slid her papers into a folder and headed for the door. As she reached for the handle she turned with a question on her face but never gave it voice when beautiful chocolate eyes met hers. She knew what he wanted her to do, but she didn't have to like it. Sighing to herself, she left, pausing just outside the door to wish Brian luck and the fortitude to cope with what was coming.

With another sigh she admitted that he would, as he always did, even if it killed him. With a heavy heart and acid burning in her stomach she made her way to the solitude of her office to do what he paid her very well to do. Manage. Eating two Rolaids, she hoped she would be able to get everything rescheduled and finish up the other things still waiting on her approval before going home. She did not want to face Brian or Everett this evening. A girl could only take so much.

*************************************************************************************

The closing of the door was Justin's permission to vent his outrage.

"Don’t even try to deny it Brian!" he spat.

"What, exactly, am I being blamed for this time?" his voice calm, emotionless.

Justin missed it entirely.

"You sent in a response to that stupid critic!" He sounded angry, but the hurt was there too.

"I sent a well worded response to a certain self-proclaimed expert, reminding his readership that wealthy people have been supporting the arts and sponsoring artists for centuries, so I fail to see why you….."

Justin cut him off, "What you fail to see is legion! What you fail to see is that by not letting it go you have picked a fight in which others will feel compelled to choose sides! What you fail to see, is that by calling him out, in true Kinney style, you have shifted the focus from my work to a discourse on our relationship! What you fail to see, is that you lent credence to his implication that I am a kept man! And worst of all, Brian, you fail to see that his implication that I am nothing without you, was validated. BY YOU, and your fucking well worded response! I can fight my own battles, damn it." He seethed.

"I hardly think that anyone would…" but Justin interrupted him again as he strode to the door.

"That's right," he bit out, "you hardly think."

Shaking his head in disgust, he exited, having never once truly looked at the man he professed to love. Maybe, just maybe, he might have seen the glimmer of regret Brian could not quite conceal.

But Justin had not, and therefore, did not.

*************************************************************************************

Ben sat waiting in a plush armchair on the set of Tasha Lyons' hit television show. He was fervently wishing he had foregone this interview. Michael had reminded him only this morning that he was a Professor and public speaking was par for course, but Ben had seen the worry on his face. Michael was pretty much an open book when it came to his feelings. Ben glanced over to where he stood off the set, but still in his line of sight, and his nerves raced up another notch upon seeing Michael chewing his thumbnail in a sure sign of discomfort.

Opening a nearby bottle of water and pouring it in the accompanying glass, Ben went over what he knew of Tasha Lyons. She had become a media sensation by asking hard questions and not allowing her recipients the opportunity to demure. She had a huge fan base obsessed with seeing her guests made a mockery of, ridiculed, called on the carpet for their hubris, and in the case of one foreign dignitary, left sobbing like a child on national television. Her network of researchers were well known for finding some of the most obscure dirt, which she then put on public display for all to see, resulting in some of the most candid, comical, and on occasion heartbreaking scenes of live television ever recorded.

Ben wished once again that he could just make some excuse and leave well enough alone, but ran out of time to do so, when she chose that moment to enter the stage as various people followed in her wake. She was barking orders and paying no attention to him so he took a few minutes to assess what he observed. Tasha was average height and weight for a woman, he supposed, but managed to look taller and thinner with the addition of four inch Jimmy Choos in scarlet ultra-suede. She had not quite platinum blonde hair that ended in an edgy fray just below her ears making her look ten years younger than her steel gray eyes said she actually was. So did the soft, charcoal pantsuit. She handed her notes to her assistant and straightened before looking into the camera as she sat down.

3,2,1……

"Welcome back to the Tasha Lyons' Show, we have with us for this final segment, Professor and author Ben Bruckner. His recent book "The Bug Chaser" is enjoying its 34th week on the New York Time's Bestseller List, welcome Ben." She finally acknowledged his presence by turning to face him, and Ben wished he had been more forceful in convincing Michael to stay at the hotel instead of coming to the set. She had not given any outward sign of her intentions, but he had seen something feral in her gaze when she looked at him.

"Thank you for having me Ms. Lyons, I'm glad to be here." He smiled.

"I have to say, Ben, that I am a little concerned about your chosen subject. You have your main character willfully seeking out HIV infected persons in order to get infected. I have to say that I find that dreadfully disturbing." Her eyes said she was titillated.

"Yes, it is, and was to write about it." Hopefully if he kept his answers short he could avoid any pitfalls.

"Don't you think, as much as the public does, that glamorizing such a thing will send the wrong message to the readers?" She asked with false sincerity so thick you could cut it.

Ben took a drink of water, stalling. "No I don't." He gave her a half smile.

"So you don't believe that your book could encourage young people to follow the footsteps of your protagonist and seek to become infected? Similar things have happened before. Fans imitate characters all of the time, even have conventions devoted to it, life imitating art, so to speak." She said with a look of wide eyed innocence on her face.

Another drink of water and a steadying breath and Ben replied "Any one that has actually read the book would realize that I did not as you say, glamorize self-infection. They would, however, note that I'm very clear in my distaste and my previous interviews have reiterated those feelings. I simply understand the motivations that would drive someone to this path and chose to write about it. My concern at how prevalent this is becoming, led to my husband and I, and a few others to start a charitable foundation with the goal of putting an end to this through education and counseling." He took another drink and set his glass on the table.

When he straightened, he noted the triumph in her eyes and realized that she had been soft-shoeing him into this corner and glanced briefly at Michael. He had no idea.

"I'm glad you mentioned the foundation. I understand that it was started before your book was a success, was in fact funded with the proceeds from your husband's comic book profits, a comic book that can only be described as pornographic."

Ben felt rather than saw, Michael blanch. He took another drink and pressed his lips together then said jovially, "Was there a question in there?" Take that.

She snickered a little at that, conceding the point. Holding up a copy of the book for the cameras she switched gears and said "Beautiful artwork, by the way. I have seen all of the promotional work done for you and I am astounded every time by the amount and quality of design that went into it. I believe Kinnetik was your agency, was it not?" She gave a big smile for the camera.

He gulped his water this time and Ben gripped the chair arms to keep his temper in check. He did not need a road map to see where this was going and he was not happy about it.

"Yes, it _is."_ Ben agreed and flexed his fingers.

"And Kinnetik also handles the marketing of the comic book, "Rage", for your husband." She was daring him to deny it.

Ben finished his glass of water even though he had a violent urge to pee.

"It does, as well as the marketing for the Foundation, and probably a couple thousand other brands that I know nothing about. Just in case that was your next question." His smile was forced and his tone sarcastic.

She chortled this time as she reached over, placing her hand over his in a seemingly conciliatory gesture. "So I guess my question is this. Don't you feel the least bit hypocritical when you espouse and expound on family values every chance you get, but your lover publishes gay porn, your son was a hustler, and the man running the marketing for your charitable foundation as well as your book, is the definition of promiscuity? Not to mention the fact that my sources confide that you started a fight and nearly beat someone to death at a peaceful vigil after a bombing in Pittsburgh?"

Ben tried to move his hand but could not do so given the grip she had taken on it forcing him to stay seated. He was positive it was not in view of the camera, but Michael saw it and made to step forward, only to stop when Ben shook his head. Clearing his throat he looked her dead in the eye and let her see his anger.

"I am not here to discuss my family and friends. Since there seem to be no more questions regarding the book, I am going to excuse myself, as I have a sudden need to wash my hands." He stood, pulled his hand from her grip, and moved off the stage. What he did not see, was the expression she left the audience with. One eyebrow cocked high, daring anyone to deny that his retreat was confirmation of her accusations.

Ben took hold of Michael's elbow and together they left the t.v. studio, both of them glad to finally be going home to Pittsburgh.

*************************************************************************************

Cynthia hated it when Brian was compelled to do things he clearly had no desire to do. Hated it on a level so deep I gnawed in her gut and sometimes (most times) drove her to the bottle of antacids she kept in her pocket, and her desk drawer, and her purse, and the console of her car, and her…. _FUCK! Why do I do this?_ She shook her head to clear it and sat down in her lovely executive chair. It was a gift from Brian and she loved the way it cushioned without a sound. She let her mind drift over the most recent events in "the life of Brian" as she called it. Drama seemed to follow him like a cloud in the form of Justin Taylor. Oh, she liked Justin well enough, but since he was the reason for needing to reschedule the staff meeting that had taken three weeks to pull together in the first place, she was not feeling particularly magnanimous at the moment.

Justin's temper had been anticipated, of course, but his timing had sucked. _Why couldn't he wait a few hours and throw his hissy fit at home?_ Brian had called that one, and she now owed him ten bucks for her loss of their bet. The kid was nothing if not predictable. To Brian anyway. Even in the middle of a temper tantrum he had been a sight to behold. His face flushed and his eyes flashing defiance he had fairly glowed in the dark. He was a fine specimen of manhood, having finally lost the last vestiges of twinkdom. Gone was the layer of softness that had shrouded him from head to toe for most of the time she had known him. In its place was well honed but not sharply defined musculature. Adultness suited him and the appraising stares as he went through the station on his visits confirmed it. He, like Brian, could have anyone he wanted in his bed, no matter what their sexuality was. Gay, straight, male, female, undecided, it didn't matter. Both men exuded sexual secrets and together they were nearly blinding in their intensity. You'd have to be dead, not to notice and appreciate the sight.

Of course, none of that mattered now. The only thing that mattered, or ever would to her, was Brian's well-being. She worked for him, sure, but they had been friends for a long time. Having been together for so long lent her a perspective on Brian that no one else had and a trust that no one else would ever get. That was not the whole of it, and never would be, but for right now that was as far as she would allow her train of thought to take her on that subject.

So it was time to switch tracks and focus on Toronto. She pulled out four antacids and chewed them as she mulled over that development. Lindsay had called Brian's cell, and when it had gone straight to voicemail, she then tried the line in his office. Not getting an answer (because they had not been in there) she had called Cynthia's office directly and asked to be connected with him. Cynthia had stated plainly that he must be busy and would pass him any message she wanted to leave.

"I just need to talk to him about our son as soon as possible."

She had sounded sweet enough, but it grated on Cynthia's last nerve whenever the older woman used those words, our son. Not hers and Mel's, as anyone casually listening might assume, but the proprietary Our Son, meaning hers and Brian's.

"I will let him know as soon as he is….."

Lindsay did not let her finish "I just need you to take the phone to him Cynthia, right now."

Trying to head off a total meltdown she had replied "I can't do that. He is in a closed meeting at the moment, so unless this is an emergency, I'll let him know you called when I see him next."

Lindsay just hung up the phone.

Cynthia waited another thirty minutes or so before seeking him out, figuring he had had enough time to brood and found him still in the conference room staring absently down at the newspaper still on the floor and smoking a cigarette. He didn't look up when she came in.

"I know, I will call her back. Thanks for holding the front line."

Concern melted into her voice when she asked "Are you sure this is what you want? You can still change your mind, it's not too late."

"I'm sure." So sad, she thought, and resigned.

He had looked at her then, and she was struck breathless, as she always was, with the depth of his pain. I was a palpable thing, living and breathing and tormenting him, but was so comfortable living in his skin that the only avenue to reach it was his eyes, lost and desperate for relief, allowing none and covered somewhat by the dark humor that even now mocked her, not unkindly, for her sympathy.

"Don't say it Eriukas" spoken just above a whisper and more powerful that a shout. He had called her Lamb, in her native Lithuanian, and now had his lips pulled in and an index finger pressed to them as if to keep back a flood of words by sheer force.

*************************************************************************************

Forty-five minutes later Brian boarded his private jet the same way he had a hundred times before, sharing light greetings with the crew and handing over his briefcase and overcoat. He didn't really know where they were stowed, just that they were taken away and returned as needed. Settling into his preferred spot in the corner of the leather sofa he kicked off his shoes. God he hated shoes. Not on principle, but the confinement they represented. Admitting to himself that he felt that way about clothes in general he wished he could go through life the way he really wanted, naked. Free, unconfined, openly naked. A smile peeked along the left edge of his mouth, not quite reaching his eyes. He knew his friends thought he was a label queen, but the truth was, if he had to put anything next to his skin he wanted it to feel good. His clothes had to feel right. Not to tight or loose, soft or firm, but just right. He chuckled when he remembered being called Goldilocks, and figured that it was an apt description in this case.

Caryn, his attendant, brought him his usual short glass of Chivas Regal asking him if he needed anything else.

"I'll take a few painkillers if you've got 'em." Leaning his head back to the wall and closing his eyes. _Fuck, this day is never going to end._

Lindsay had called his cell while he'd been brooding over Justin's tantrum, and he had not been able to bring himself to call her back right away. If the munchers had called him, it could not be good. He had stalled for nearly an hour and when he spoke to her she had been cryptic, but insisted that he come to Toronto tonight. It was for the best he supposed. It gave Justin time to cool off, with the benefit being able to visit with his son.

_When did life get so complicated? When you stuck your nose in and started paying attention, asshole!_

That was not entirely accurate, since he ALWAYS paid attention, so it was more accurate to say it got complicated when he started to CARE.

_And when the fuck had that happened anyway?_

Brian did not really want to answer that, and was saved from doing so by Caryn's return.

"Uh, I'm sorry Mr. Kinney, but I don’t have any regular painkillers on board right now. But I do have, uh, some um…."

Brian would have laughed at her obvious embarrassment if he hadn’t also noticed she was clutching her right hand tightly in her left.

Concerned he asked "You okay?"

Steeling herself, she opened her fist for his inspection. Brian saw the twin oblong, blue pills but did not recognize them. In and of itself, it was a new experience and cause for mild curiosity.

"What are they?" His eyes twinkled at the prospect of an illicit drug he had not taken before.

Caryn correctly interpreted his assumption and decided it might be fun to tweak the tail of the beast, if only to make him forget his shitty day.

"Just take them. They will fix the headache I see brewing and help with the stiffness in your back I noticed when you handed over your things."

He was a little nonplussed that she had picked up on that tidbit, teasing her with a snarky reply.

"You must know, that if those pills kill me, the cops will know it was you pretty quickly since there are only four of us on board." He teased. She was utterly charmed, instantly aware, not for the first time, how magnificently beautiful he really was when he let down his guard. She lamented, once again, the fact that he was not straight.

"Just take them and try to get a nap. It's a short trip as you know, so take advantage of what you can." The insinuation and the invitation was clear. She once again held out the pills.

Brian figured what the hell, and swallowed the pills with the last of his liquor. He gave her his sexiest, come hither look and with his voice dripping sensual secrets, drawled "So. What were they?"

Backing out of reach, because one never knew, Caryn gave him back tit for tat. With come hither eyes and her voice dripping honey, she replied "Midol." As she walked off.

For the rest of the flight she relished the groan he'd let fly and the look of utter horror that had filled his face.

*************************************************************************************

Justin called Michael on his way home from the station, needing an outlet for the frustration and dissatisfaction that remained after his confrontation with Brian but when it went to voicemail, he hung up. Riding the elevator to top he had plenty of time to think. He loved Brian, always had, and the last couple of years had seen their share of disagreements and arguments, but this time was different. He could not pinpoint exactly why, but he was sure of one thing. Brian had been pulling away from him for some time now. Not in big ways, but little easily overlooked ways. Like not going to bed until he was sure Justin was already asleep and waking first. Tricking had become infrequent but was on the rise again and so was clubbing. His drug and alcohol use was staggering and cause for Justin's biggest concern.

He knew Brian well enough and was sure there was something wrong. Just as he was sure that no amount of cajoling would get him to talk about it. Typically he would make himself miserable until he came to terms with whatever was bothering him, alienating the people around him in the process. They had been through it before with Brian's cancer. But, as he thought before, this time was different. The mood swings were more drastic, volatile, and when Justin had innocently startled Brian recently, he had seen stark fear in his face before he managed to hide it.

He entered the apartment noting the broken glass near the wall and the open bottle of Beam on the coffee table. Brian must have been in a real state last night if he left the place in anything but perfection. Justin felt the guilt wash over him again for what he had done to Brian, but didn’t let it linger in the light of what Brian had done over the review. He didn’t want to be on this roller coaster anymore, didn’t want to love someone with that much power over his emotions. He didn’t like that Brian seemed to not be as invested in their relationship as he was. It felt like Brian was never giving as much to their arrangement as he was. It was exhausting, trying to get him to engage.

Justin got an overnight bag from the hall closet and moved into their bedroom. Putting some things inside, he decided to head to Pittsburgh for a few days, try to figure shit out. Lying back on the bed, he wondered, as he had many times in the past, if Brian would even miss him. He knew the man loved him, but he was unsure if it was still enough.

*************************************************************************************

Brian was sending a text to Theodore telling him to give Caryn a raise, with his thanks, when he exited the plane. A misty rain was falling as he hurried to the dark sedan waiting to take him to see his son. Inside he ran a hand through his damp hair pushing it back from his face. The double beep that signaled a call from Everett had him answering immediately, while giving the driver a nod, and they were on their way.

"What can I do for you, Ryker?" He sounded tired, even to himself.

Knowing Brian would not want him to beat around the bush he said "He's gone. Geri confirmed a flight to Pittsburgh tonight. One way ticket paid for by credit card."

"Put whomever you think is best on him, and keep me updated." There was no inflection, no hint at what was running through his mind, all business.

Everett couldn't wrap his head around it, especially after last night. Brian's long-time lover had just left him and he sounded like he was ordering a pizza. _Maybe that's how he copes?_

Venturing into unfamiliar waters he asked "Anything I can do for you?"

Tucking his head, Brian sighed at the concern he heard "Just your job." He didn’t want pity. Disconnecting, he turned his phone off and sat in silence for the rest of the trip staring out the window.

The hushed sweep of the wiper blades filled the interior and Lara, the driver, peeked in the rearview mirror at her occupant. She had driven him before, but had never had the opportunity to study him as he seemed to be always in motion. Not so tonight. He leaned into the door, head tilted next to the glass. Dark auburn hair swept back, revealing moss green eyes whenever they passed a street light. Outside of the military, she had never seen anyone be that still. She could not even tell if he was breathing. That kind of control would be an asset if he was a sniper and most likely took him years to cultivate.

They entered a quiet neighborhood that could only be described as vinyl-sided suburbia at its most nauseating. All the houses appeared the same and she pulled to a stop at the curb in front of the house with blue shutters. He hadn’t appeared to notice, consumed with his own thoughts, and startling abruptly when she cleared her throat while watching him in the mirror.

"Thank you, Lara. You have your arrangements I assume?" he asked.

"Yes sir, Mr. Kinney." Not knowing any way to lift his spirits she added "Just let me know if you need me, any time."

He nodded then and met her at the trunk for his carryall. He tipped his head in her direction and she returned to her post and drove off. He navigated the cracked sidewalk and saw the curtain in the big front window settle back into place and knew his son had been manning his post, awaiting his arrival.

Brian had just a couple of seconds to drop his bag as the front door flew open and he was tackled by the boy that launched into his arms, never doubting his Dad would catch him. He was pulled close in strong arms and lifted into a spin that left him giddy with laughter. Brian hoped he would never hear the end of his son's amusement. Putting him down, he grabbed his bag and let Gus take his hand. He was unceremoniously dragged into the house where small hands proceeded to remove his shoes. A habit these days since Gus had worked out for himself, that if his Dad took off his shoes, it meant he was staying overnight, and he wanted to ensure that he did. Brian didn’t have the heart to stop him.

"I've been waiting for you forever to get here Daddy, and Mommy said I could wait in the window if I ate all my dinner and I did and I saw the black car and I knew it was you but I'm not allowed to open the door till I see you and then I did and I'm so happy you're here 'cuz school is boring and Mommy said I don’t hafta go tomorrow if you stay so will you stay Daddy? We can play with my new Transformers and Legos or we can erection a fort or whatever you want to."

Brian smiled for the first time in hours and felt his spirits lift a little at Gus' enthusiasm. Stroking a hand over hair so much like his own, he squatted down so they were eye to eye.

"Take a breath, Sonny-Boy, and help me find the ladies of the house. They seem to be conspicuously absent." A dimple flashed in his cheek as he grinned.

Gus made the motion of zipping his lips, but his face was animated in his excited anticipation, as he practically danced in place. He knew the routine.

"Been practicing, have we?" He stood, drawing in a lungful of air and started to sing, "Someday my prince will come, someday we'll meet again, and away to his castle we'll go," Brian heard little feet headed his way and turned to meet the girl toddling his way from the back of the house. She had dark hair and eyes, wearing blue pajamas with ducks under umbrellas printed on them.

"Prince, Prince" she slurred around the fingers she had stuck in her mouth. Gus met her halfway and taking her hand in his, patiently guided her to his Dad. She peered up at him, grinning and baring some new teeth as a bit of drool slid from the corner of her mouth. Lifting her arms in a demand, Brian couldn’t help but oblige. Securing her in his left arm he grabbed his son, tucking him under his right like a sack of potatoes, venturing to the back of the house and the kitchen he figured the girls were hiding in.

He was blowing raspberries in Jenny's neck and Gus was squirming and giggling like a loon when he stepped into the bright kitchen. Melanie and Lindsay were both seated at the table drinking coffee and he could still smell the pot roast they had had for dinner.

Lindsay could only marvel at the sight of her children who unabashedly loved the man. For someone who thought he would never be a good father, he was doing a hell of a job. Jenny had pulled his two hundred dollar tie into her mouth and he didn’t seem to care as he nuzzled her neck while she cooed.

Gus managed to get free, dropping on all fours to the floor, and the moment was broken. Melanie rose to relieve Brian of her daughter, but Jenny refused to be taken away. She fisted tiny fingers into the hair above Brian's ear, babbling into the side of his face.

"It's all right, Mel. After all, what real princess would choose the dragon over the prince anyway?" He snarked as he slid into the empty seat at the table. Jenny made quick work of arranging herself in his lap, laying back in the crook of his elbow, where she promptly stuck a thumb in her mouth and watched as Brian slipped off his tie and dangled it over her for her amusement.

Both women seemed ill at ease, so he sent Gus off on a mission to score the stuff they needed for a fort before turning his attention back to them.

"He's not going to be long, so spill it."

Lindsay noticed the dark circles under his eyes and rose to get him some coffee, adding the copious amount of sugar he preferred.

Melanie started "We had some concerns about Gus. His teacher suggested that he is well ahead of his classmates academically."

Lindsay handed him his cup and he sipped before he said "No surprise, being our kid and all." He looked pointedly at her.

She cleared her throat, not risking a look at Melanie. "Right, so we had him tested. We got the results today and we thought you might want to see them." She sat down, pulling a sheaf of papers from under the placemat and sliding them across the table to him.

"I'm tired, and hungry, can't you just give me the Cliff Notes?" He already knew what the papers said, but wanted to hear it anyway.

Mel picked up the conversation "Basically it says that Gus is very talented, most likely gifted, academically and keeping him in a regular school could deter his chances of success."

Lindsay added "If he is not challenged enough, he could become a nuisance, or even act out and cause problems for the other kids. It is suggested that we put him in a special program for kids like him, to get the one on one education that his situation demands, allowing him to learn at an accelerated pace.”

"Hmmm." Brian sipped his coffee again, taking note of the expectant stares they were giving him, as they seemed to be holding their breath. "Send me the paperwork and I'll take care of it." Both women exhaled then and smiled happily at each other as they clasped hands.

This whole demand that he come to Toronto had been about money. They thought he would be less likely to say no to their faces. _As if._ _And why does that still sting just a little bit?_ He stared down at the ducks on Jenny's pajamas but they did not have the answer either. Gus hollered from the top of the stairs that he had found everything he needed, so Brian stood and carried Jenny with him to his son's room to, as his son had said, erection a fort.

*************************************************************************************

As it happened, Ben, Michael, and Justin ran into each other on the curb at the airport, while trying to hail cabs.

"Hey, Justin," Michael waved his arms above his head trying to get his attention. When Justin turned, it was to see them standing at the other end of the crowd, so he began weaving through the throng.

"Probably best to not mention the article." Ben warned under his breath and had Michael nodding in agreement as Justin finally made it to their side.

"I've been trying to reach you." Justin said, "I was hoping I could crash at your place for a couple days while I'm in town?" He was busy zipping his coat against the chill and missed the look that passed between the Novotny-Bruckners.

"Uh, sure, why don’t we get a cab and you can tell us all about it when we get home." Ben offered.

"Yeah,okay." Justin's shoulders slumped a little, not sure about how much he wanted to share, but he was grateful to be among real friends again. He was even more grateful, to not have to stay in Brian's loft.

*************************************************************************************

Debbie was walking through her front door and shucking her coat, when the silence hit her. _Carl must have caught a bad case if he's not home yet._ She hung the coat on the peg and went to the kitchen for a snack. Opening the freezer door she eyeballed the Ben and Jerry's chocolate chunk ice cream and almost decided against it, when she noticed the envelope attached to the top. Grabbing both, she set them on the kitchen table and sat down to open the note.

"In honor of your birthday, this card entitles you to two weeks of vacation aboard a cruise ship in the Caribbean Sea. Love, Carl."

He had signed it with x's and o's, eliciting a girlish smile from Debbie right there in her kitchen. But the house was empty. She had no one to share her happiness with and for a slim second wished her family closer. She then chastised herself for the sentimentality. Her "lost boys" were all grown up, making their own way in the world, and she was proud of them. She was proud of her role in their lives, that she had had a hand shaping them into the men they were and the success they had found.

She rose, intent on making a cake. Not just for her birthday, but for Carl, and the love she had found so late in life and the gratitude for his wonderful gift.

*************************************************************************************

Cynthia was shutting down her computer at midnight. It had been another very long day. Conferences with legal had taken the bulk of her working hours and would need even more after Brian reviewed the work, but she was satisfied that she had earned her pay today and picked up her briefcase and coat. She hoped it wasn't cold enough to snow yet, as her outerwear was not designed for it. Stepping out of her office she let out a half scream as she was startled by Everett walking out of the darkness.

"Christ, man, you need to wear bells or something." She was still trying to regain her composure when he broke into a full-bellied laugh that had her nerves jangling. _LORD ALMIGHTY! The man is hot!_ She felt the flush that crept up her neck and colored her face, causing her ears to burn. She had never in her life, blushed as much as she did around Everett. She was proud of her ability to stay calm and cool in difficult circumstances and she despised the visible indication of her arousal being on display. He noticed, she saw, and his laughter immediately died. Replaced by uninhibited desire he took no measures to hide.

She felt much like a rabbit might, when facing a wolf. Stuck, staring, heart racing, and scared to breathe or move.

Everett saw the mild panic. It had not been his intention to scare her, just to walk her out to her car. But now, standing there staring at him, her desire a mirror of his own, he stepped forward. She watched him, making no move to evade, so he advanced again, slowly, giving her every chance to leave. He heard her belongings hit the walkway and saw in her eyes the moment she gave in. Her hands reached for his face, landing on either side of his head and he was pulled into the hottest kiss he had ever had.

Cynthia pressed her lips to Everett's, figuring if she was going to go against her better judgement, she would make him suffer for it. He opened his mouth on a gasp and she wasted no time delving her tongue in to dance with his while aligning their bodies for maximum contact.

Everett could not hold a single thought together. He was both consumed and confused by the woman in his arms. She had given every indication of hard to get, but was here now, with him, outside her office, completely uninhibited. _Too fast! Too fast!_ His brain finally screamed, but his body wasn't listening. She had wrapped one arm around his neck and the other was tugging his polo shirt from his jeans. Her hand slid up his back then coasted back down to slip under his waistband. He hugged her tighter, taking their kiss to a new level, groaning into her mouth when she gripped his ass and ground their hips together. No way to hide the hard on he had, or her surprised exhale when she felt it.

Cynthia felt it, all right. She wanted to feel it naked and plunging into her. She was already wet and wanting, but backed away. She was only supposed to kiss him and she'd let it go too far. She dragged the back of her hand across her lips, as if to wipe him away, and she saw anger flare in his face.

"Don’t do that." His voice was gravel and his hands flexed at his sides, "no need to be ashamed or embarrassed."

"I'm not" she sounded weak, even to herself.

He faced her fully, "I knew there was fire, so did you. Sometimes it's worth the risk." His eyes were hot, leaving her speechless. He tucked his polo back in and retrieving her things, handed them to her. Starting down the stairs, he said over his shoulder, "Drinks with me, Friday, seven o'clock. No excuses." He didn’t wait for her reply, leaving her standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

*************************************************************************************

Lindsay and Mel spent a couple of hours discussing which program to put Gus in and could not come to an amenable agreement. Lindsay wanted to move back to the States and Melanie did not. Agreeing to disagree, for the time being, Melanie went off to bed, leaving Lindsay to mull over the problem, at the kitchen table. Lindsay knew her wife would be asleep in minutes, a benefit she herself could not lay claim to. Having not heard the sounds of play for some time, she made her way to Gus's room, to see the damage his fort had wreaked.

A large blanket had been strung between the two twin beds and was tucked into the blinds at the far end giving it a tent-like appearance. The end closest to her, with nothing to raise it, sagged between the beds almost to the floor. She muffled the giggle that threatened, when she saw two legs covered in gray sweats sticking out up to the knees. Carefully pulling back the corner of the blanket she could see the tangle of bodies inside. Brian lay on his back, with a child tucked in each arm and a storybook lying open on his chest. All three were asleep, peaceful in their dreams. Lindsay quietly searched out drawing paper and a pencil and began sketching. She worked fast at first, getting a good outline. As the mood took her, she slowed, filling in the finer details and taking time to show how much her son looked like his father. More so in sleep, than at any other time. Brian's face was relaxed, his dark lashes brushing his cheeks while his breathing rustled his son's hair. Lindsay smiled, even in sleep, Brian was protective. The fact that he treated Jenny like his daughter was a testament to how much he loved his son. Gus loved her, so Brian did too.

She continued to draw for over an hour and when her back began to protest she shifted out of the door to the wall next to it. Her moving allowed the light her body had been blocking to fall directly on Brian illuminating him fully. She used the new position to look her fill and refine the details of his body in her sketch. It wasn't long before she noticed the tension creeping into his limbs and the furrow in his brow. No longer peaceful, his dreams took hold of him and his eyes moved rapidly under his lids. Lindsay watched, hoping he would settle, but finally reached out to rouse him when he began to murmur and he jerked awake, instantly aware of his surroundings. He exhaled sharply on a curse, but managed not to wake the kids, and Lindsay slid the picture under the end of the bed out of sight. Reaching in to help him untangle limbs and stand, she was close enough to see the thin sheen of sweat covering him, but did not comment on it.

Brian stood on shaky legs, could not miss the concern on Lindsay's face, and pulled her to his side with an arm around her and kissing her forehead in reassurance while guiding her out to the hallway. He walked with her to her bedroom door, clearly sending her off to bed, and entered the bathroom next to it. She stood, in the hall waiting for him, with her eyes narrowed when he came out. He didn’t want to talk about it and she did. She crossed her arms over her chest and blocked his way to the extra bedroom until he finally capitulated.

"Fine, we'll go downstairs. You can make me something to eat, since you seem to feel like mothering me." He rubbed his fingers and descended the stairs ahead of her and plopped into a chair in the kitchen while she heated a plate of pot roast. Resting his chin on his hand, he dozed until he smelled his dinner.

She started innocuously enough, "I know you don’t eat carbs after seven, but knowing you, and I do, you didn’t take the time for a meal before coming, so you'll eat that and not complain." Her face was soft when she said it, so Brian chose not to argue. He just began to eat, hoping to wait her out, and barring that, to only answer direct questions with the simplest answer. _Maybe she'll take the hint, and fuck off._

"How long have you been having them, this time?" Lindsay could get an award for accuracy, and silently cheered, when his fork stopped halfway to his mouth. She watched him prevaricate whether or not to tell the truth, and followed with, "Don’t lie to me, I'll know it."

"Eleven months." He replied before taking a bite.

She got up and went to the refrigerator, then poured him a glass of juice. Bringing it back and setting it in front of him, she sat back down, considering carefully what to say next. He was her best friend, but if handled in the wrong way, he would shut her down and refuse any more inquiries. _He should have "fragile handle with care" stamped on his forehead._ Letting him finish his food in silence, she took his plate to the sink and tugged on his hand until he followed her outside onto the cold back patio. She tossed him a blanket and settled him into the porch swing then lit the fire pit.

For his part, Brian recognized that he was well and truly caught now. There would be no escaping to the safety of the spare room while Lindsay wanted answers. Resigning himself, he curled into the swing, pulling his bare feet into the glider, while she disappeared briefly and came back with a fat joint and a lighter.

Smiling sheepishly, she explained, "Melanie doesn’t garden, so I keep it in a flower pot over there."

Brian returned her smile and opened the blanket in an invitation for her to join him. She settled between his legs and leaned back against his bare chest offering him the joint, while he closed the blanket over them. Lighting up, he sucked in a deep drag, holding in while passing it, and exhaled three perfect smoke rings into the night. Lindsay tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder and her hair teased and caught in the stubble on his jaw. She took a hit, held it, and said "He doesn’t know." Brian didn’t have to ask who she was talking about.

Rubbing his cheek on her head he closed his eyes. "No." She passed back, and he had another drag, enjoying the flavor. She rubbed his bare foot with her own before saying, "Okay."

Brian had never known her to let a subject drop until she was satisfied and was therefore grateful when no more questions were forthcoming. They had not had this kind of solitude in their friendship since college and he realized he had missed it. They shared the rest of the weed in companionable silence, and she was just drifting to sleep, when she felt the rumble of his voice under her cheek.

"Mmm? You say something?" she whispered.

"I asked if you ever thought about having another kid." His tone was deceptively light.

"As if you care, why do you ask?" Lindsay chuckled at the joke she thought he was making.

"Because, I'd like it if you had one," he turned her face up until she could see his in the firelight, "for me."

*************************************************************************************

Ted was checking his phone as he got home. Blake had left two voicemails that Ted didn’t want to listen to. They'd been having some trouble keeping a long distance relationship viable. Coming to New York to move among the elite, had been a dream fulfilled for Ted. He was respected here, admired even. He loved that others were jealous of his life. _I'm back on top!_ He had never been happier and Blake wanted him to go back to the Pitts. _Ludicrous!_

He also had some missed calls from Emmett, but decided not to call him tonight. It was pretty late and he had to be back at the office in six hours. He loved his job, not minding the long hours in the least. Cozying up to his ledgers gave him a satisfaction that little else could. Brian had recognized it, and now paid him to do what he did best. Ted was the CFO of a huge, groundbreaking, corporation that was in the news on a regular basis. For him, it did not get much better.

Plugging the charger into his phone, he stripped and fell crosswise on his bed, asleep in minutes never-minding that he was alone.

*************************************************************************************

Michael unlocked the front door, leading the way to the living room. All three of them dumped their baggage and slumped into the furniture. It had been a bad day all around and no one really wanted to hear anyone else's problems.

"You can have Hunter's room. He's staying with at the dorms now." Michael offered.

"Thanks. Not sure I'll sleep, but it's worth a try." Justin made to stand and was stopped by Ben's question.

"Why aren’t you staying at the loft?" He was cleaning the lenses of his glasses on his shirttail.

Justin looked at Michael and debated how much to say. Opting for the less is more approach he shouldered his bag, saying "I don’t belong there anymore. I left him." Head hanging low, he ascended the stairs to his room and closed out his friends.

Still downstairs, Ben saw the heartbreak on his husband's face, and knew in the pit of his gut that Michael would have a hard time with the breakup. He loved Brian like he loved no one else, but he and Justin had become good friends while working on their comic book, "Rage".

Ben sighed as he put his glasses back on and moved to sit next to Michael kissing him on the temple and rubbing his back in understanding. "They'll work it out, they always do." Ben offered reassuringly.

"I don’t know, Ben. You haven’t read the papers yet."

*************************************************************************************

Lindsay's shock left her gaping at Brian in disbelief and questioning his sanity. He just continued to stare into her eyes while she came to grips with his request. He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip as she tried to put her thoughts into words then pulled her back to rest against him once more. She shivered and he wrapped her more tightly in his embrace, keeping his arms around her.

When she spoke, her voice was raw, "Brian, you know I love you, but do you think the two of you are ready for that?"

He took his time, but answered honestly. " _I'm the one asking Lindsay."_

It was then she knew that Justin had left him. Her heart broke for him and she caressed the arms that held her. When he didn’t say anything else, she knew in her soul that Brian would not give the artist his heart again. He was nobodies' fool.

*************************************************************************************


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

 

Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams and they were more painful than the dreams of other boys. For hours, he could not be separated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, I think, with the riddle of his existence.

J.M. Barrie

 

 

Ted finally listened to his messages while being driven to the station. Blake had left two. Both were mildly chastising Ted for not answering and both had the phrase, "we need to talk". Ted was irritated by Blake's calm, even tone. Ted secretly termed it his "rehab voice", since it was the one he used while counseling addicts, non-confrontational and conciliatory. After two years together, Ted loathed that voice. More importantly, Ted loathed that voice when it was used on him. Every time he heard it, he remembered sitting in the plastic chair at the rehab center while Blake led group therapy. It reminded him of the lowest parts in his life and he felt small and ashamed all over again.

The car stopped in front of the grand entrance of Kinney Track, giving Ted a small thrill, as it did every time. He was filled with self-importance. He had his own car and driver, a security detail, and a position of real power in the company. The driver opened his door for him and he took his time getting out of the car. He loved starting his day out this way. He stood on the sidewalk, appearing to adjust his overcoat, but really he was preening for whoever happened to be watching. _Of course people are watching. I'm an important man. Everyone wants to be me._

Striding through the great glass doors the doorman was holding open, he was struck by the sheer audacity of his new office building. The overall flavor was still respectful of the original architecture and design, but Brian had been very careful in the decorating to make sure that it was not stuffy or overdone. The end result was cozily modern, invitingly sharp, and precise without appearing to be. Antiques mingled effortlessly with new pieces allowing traffic to flow while inviting conversations in the many seating groups. Ted was proud to walk in here every day and never used the employee entrance in the back. It satisfied his need to see and be seen.

Stopping at the large semi-circular admin desk in front of the staircase he noted that it was empty. Normally, there would be at least six people, dedicated to manning the phones and terminals, to assist Brian, Cynthia, and himself in whatever capacity they were needed. Ted wondered if they were all late for work and was determined that heads would roll if that was the case. _Can't have laziness on the job. Anyone would be happy to replace them._

Upstairs in his office he hung up his coat and booted up his computer. He had an e-mail from Cynthia that was flagged as urgent. Opening it first, he swore under his breath.

Ted,

Meeting in my office, asap.

Cynthia

 

He couldn't stand it when she pulled stuff at the last minute. They were all responsible for scheduling meetings ahead of time, so everyone could coordinate their calendars, and he didn't like stuff coming up spontaneously. It was disruptive to the order he craved and maintained, especially at work. Pulling out a leather bound tablet, he made the journey to Cynthia's office on the other side of Brian's. Ted was figuring out how to word his complaint about it in his head, when he was stopped by a wall of bodies trailing out the door of where he needed to be.

Standing straighter and using his most authoritative voice he announced, "Stand aside, I need to be in here." People shuffled and swayed, eventually allowing him to pass through to stand near the windows. He could only see the top of Cynthia's honey blonde head in the crowd around her desk before she called the meeting to order.

"Everyone that can be seated, please do so, especially those in the front, as I would like to see as many faces as possible. Take the floor if you need to."

More shuffling and some curious murmurs ran around the room as it became evident this was not a normal meeting. There were people from art, legal, admin, and security present. At first glance, the room was filled to capacity with the top talent from every division of the company. Only one person was missing. Brian. Ted began to worry. What on earth could the woman be doing, with all of these people here, without Brian? He drew breath to challenge her with that very question, when Brian stepped into the door and leaned on the jamb. Silence fell over the crush. He just looked around the room and with his gaze ending on Cynthia, nodded his head.

She began "You are all here because you represent the best talent of your respective departments. A few are missing and I will make sure they are brought up to speed as soon as possible. A time has come, for us to depend on you in a way we have not yet had to do."

Brian straightened, bracing a hand on his hip. "I have some personal circumstances that I can no longer put on the back burner, and have asked Cynthia to call this meeting so everyone can hear directly from me, what I expect in my absence." Heads turned, looking to see if anyone else had the skinny on what was going on. Brian adopted a stern expression, speaking with all the authority of his position. "Every single one of you will work your ass off and do your best work, every day, just exactly as you have been doing since we got here. However, Cynthia is now in charge. Anything you would have brought to me, you now bring to her. If she feels I need to know, then I will. If you have any concerns in accounting, Theodore is your man, as Everett is for security. They will be the persons responsible for this company in my absence. Final decisions rest solely with Cynthia per my request. In these new circumstances, she is me, for all intents and purposes. All new accounts will come only through her for reasons I will not explain. Any disciplinary actions needed, will also come through her. I want no one to mistake me, SHE IS THE COMPANY, from this day forward and will be accorded the respect due the position." He then made sure to make eye contact with nearly everyone before finally settling on her face again. He gave her a barely perceptible nod and left.

She drew up to her full height, made eye contact as he had done, and said "For now, that will be all. I will be sending out a few new assignments by e-mail, and may do some personnel moves, however I expect few, if any, complaints on the matter so you are all dismissed. Ted, Everett, if you could stay please."

The room cleared in record time as everyone hurried back to quieter corners to discuss amongst themselves and those not present for the meeting, the curious events of the morning. Ted and Everett hung back, and when Cynthia walked out toting her electronic tablet, were relegated to following her like a couple of baby ducks, Ted irritated and Everett amused.

*************************************************************************************

Melanie was fixing a to-go cup of her favored blend as Lindsay snored lightly on the couch. A check on the guest room revealed Brian had already left, not having slept in the bed. She had a horrible thought that he and her wife had slept together on the couch and had to force back the bile that rose in her throat. She had never believed their relationship to be a healthy one, and having said so on many occasions, left her out of the circle of trust, firmly in the bad dyke role. She loved Lindsay, was sure it was reciprocated, and knew without a doubt, that where Brian was concerned, Lindsay had a blind spot a mile wide.

The aroma of the coffee and the sound of the machine brewing had Lindsay yawning and rubbing ferociously at her face. Sitting up and looking around, she was grateful that Melanie came to her rescue with a large mug. Nodding thanks, she closed bloodshot eyes and gripping the cup in both hands, leaning into the back of the couch, sipping slowly.

"So," Melanie sat on the coffee table, "What time did he leave?"

Lindsay didn't open her eyes before answering, "Uh, about four-thirty this morning."

"That early? Never known him to be an early riser." She pressed.

"He didn't have to get up, because we never went to bed." Lindsay needed to have a conversation with Melanie about Brian's request, but stubbornly refused to do it right now. "Look, Mel, I will tell you all about it, but not now. I need a shower and you need to go to work. There simply isn't enough time before you leave, to do this. So I'll arrange a sitter tonight for the kids and we'll talk about it then."

Melanie gave in, knowing that if she pushed the issue, Lindsay would go all WASPY on her and refuse to communicate at all, most specifically when it came to Brian. Pursing her lips, she stood and kissed her wife good bye, pretty sure she wouldn't like their evening.

*************************************************************************************

"I don’t want to talk about it." Justin said, as he pushed his breakfast around on his plate.

"It's just his way. You know that. I really don't think it was deliberate." Michael's tone was soothing, but his eyes were begging Justin to reconsider.

"Thanks for not talking about it." _Shit, now I'm starting to sound like Brian._ "I love him, I have always loved him, but I can love him and not live with him, I want off of the roller coaster, Michael. I'm tired, of wondering what's going on in his head, of him shutting me out, of trying to guess what craziness is going to come next…" Justin trailed off.

"What do you mean, shutting you out?"

"I don’t really know, I just feel like there is something he's not telling me. You know him, he refuses to admit when something is bothering him. This has been a long time coming, he's been pushing me away in small pieces for months and I just can't do it anymore." Justin slumped in his chair letting his fork clatter to his plate.

"But Brian…"

"I'm done talking about it. It's over."

*************************************************************************************

"Wait here please." Cynthia said as she left the two men standing outside of Brian's office and closed the door in their faces. Ted was a little peeved and about to say something to Everett, but kept it to himself when the other man leaned on the wall and began cleaning his nails with a penknife from his pocket.

Inside, Cynthia walked to Brian's desk, sitting in the empty chair in front, and waited for the conversation to include her. The man Brian was talking to was seated next to her and she recognized him as Brian's personal attorney, and not part of the legal staff for Kinnetik Corp. He was middle-aged and had the unfortunate name of Harry Pitts to go along with his thatch of carrot orange hair and freckly skin. He appeared frail, with his thin frame and wire-rimmed glasses, but she knew Brian trusted the man, and that was all that mattered to her.

He retrieved a thick sheaf of documents from his briefcase, setting them on the desk, and Brian leaned in to pick them up. "Everything here?" he asked as he tapped a finger on the arm of his chair.

"Yes sir. Everything you asked me for sewed up so tight I don't even think I could find a loophole." Harry's voice was much deeper and fuller than his body suggested it would be.

Standing up, Brian put a hand inside his suit jacket and came out with a very expensive pen. "Cynthia, if you don't mind, I'd like you to come around here." His arm gestured for her to sit in his chair.

She was confused, but didn't hesitate to do as he asked. Once there, she looked up at him and knew there was trouble afoot, by the devilish expression he wore. Both lips were pulled in and his dimples winked at her. He looked childishly happy, as he handed her the pen and leaned over her shoulder, bracing one hand on the desk. She glanced at the top page of the stack and the words "Partnership Contract" leapt at her.

Shaking her head dramatically she fairly shouted, "No way Brian, I'm not doing it. It's your baby, and I…"

Harry had seen all kinds of strange things in his business, but never someone that did not want to be a partner in such a huge corporation. He was riveted as Brian laid a hand on the back of her neck and kissed the side of her head. He whispered something in her ear and she listened intently, finally nodding, and with a deep breath and a steady hand, began to sign everywhere he had indicated. The whole process took nearly an hour, at the end of which she silently stood up and left, never looking back.

Ted peeked through the now open door "You wanted to see us, Boss?"

Brian gestured for them to sit on the sofa as Harry stowed Cynthia's paperwork and pulled out others, handing some to each man as they sat.

"These are your new work contracts, with expanded responsibilities, pay raises, and limitations. You are allowed to hire qualified individuals to fill any current or future needs that Mr. Kinney's departure may require so long as they meet the security qualifications we have in place and any additional ones that Everett feels necessary. Certain measures are being taken in order to protect the company, which will not be explained. If you choose not to sign, no hard feelings, you will find a severance document towards the back of your papers."

Brian watched as Everett wasted no time signing his contract. Ted was reading his, so he went to the sidebar and made four glasses of whiskey. Carrying two back, he handed one to Harry and one to Everett. The older man narrowed his eyes and got up to walk back to the sidebar with Brian. Standing close, his words barely heard, he said "If this is what you gave us, what did you give Cynthia? The whole fucking company?" he chuckled.

Brian downed his shot and poured another. He clinked glasses with Everett, and nodded just once in affirmation with merriment evident in his hazel green eyes.

Everett was stunned. "Shit, how'd you get her to take it? Never mind, I'd bet the look on her face was priceless. Man, I wish I could have seen it. It's not often that woman gets rattled, ya know?"

Brian didn't respond right away, just looked at Everett's face. The security man's gray eyes hinted at interest in his new partner and Brian hoped he was brave enough to act on it. "Mmmm, even more priceless is when she is speechless." he said cryptically. He saw Ted sign his contract so he carried the man's drink over, smirking at the way Ted chugged it down.

"To give you the gist, I need to leave for a while. I'll be around for the next month or so, so everyone can become accustomed to the new arrangements. After that, the only person able to reach me will be Cynthia." Everett's grin split his face, baring perfect teeth. Ted squirmed in agitation. "But Brian," he began.

"Before you two walked in here, Ted, she signed her partnership agreement. She is now acting CEO of KInnetik Corp. Get behind it, or get gone." He shook Harry's hand and thanked him for the work while walking him out of the office.

*************************************************************************************

Emmett slept late, took a leisurely shower, and was standing in the open door of the refrigerator when his cell started to play "The Imperial March" from _Star Wars_ , signaling an incoming call from Brian. Sashaying in his underwear to where he left his bag, he rummaged for the phone.

"What can I do for the Wicked Witch of the East, this morning?" he said by way of greetings.

"It's noon cocksucker. Be at the airport in two hours, you're coming to New York for the weekend." Brian told him.

Emmett rolled his eyes, "I have plans this weekend, I can't just drop everything and come running. What do I tell my clients?"

"Uh, tell them you have a case of gonorrhea? I don't give a shit, just get here."

Emmett glared at the phone but Brian had already gone.

*************************************************************************************

Justin was making himself at home in Daphne's apartment, scoring a cola and lighting up. She let him be, knowing he would talk about it when he was ready, and that it almost certainly involved Brian. Justin's whole adult life had revolved around the man and she wasn't sure it was a good thing. When Justin had called and asked if he could stay with her, she'd automatically agreed. It was a sure bet that drama would ensue, but that was okay. They were best friends and she'd missed him.

"I'm really sorry I couldn't make it to your show." She started, hoping to draw him out.

"It's all right Daph, you didn't miss much." He wandered around looking at different things, obviously thinking about something else.

"So, how long do you think you'll be here?" She asked lightly.

"A week or two. Just till I can find a place of my own." He gave a half-hearted smile and checked his phone for the seventh time since he walked in.

*************************************************************************************

 _It's too final. Like he doesn’t plan on coming back._ Cynthia's mind swirled in a miasma of doubt and trepidation. She ate some antacids and tried to work, but her mind kept going over their meeting. _I am trusting you to protect everything that matters to me, the paperwork is to legally make sure that you can. Sign the damn contract, so I don't have to worry about you._ He had whispered when she had balked. Soshe signed. It was the least of what she felt she owed him.

She looked at her pretty, antique clock and noted the day was over half gone already. It was three in the afternoon and she was no closer to being done with the multitude of things on her list for today. Looking up as Brian walked in, she could see how tired he was. He had his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and his tie was absent. Flopping into her guest chair, he sprawled out and closed his eyes.

"Go away." She hissed.

"Shhh. I'm hiding. Ted's been following me around asking if the cancer is back and all kinds of stupid shit. He wouldn't dare come in here after me. You scare him." He barked out a short laugh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, he'll just have to get over it, won't he?" Cynthia was impatient with the interruption.

"After I'm gone, you should move him back to Pittsburgh. Give him control of that branch."

"Why don’t you? You're still here."

"Because he will see it as a step up, as a token of appreciation, others will see it as punishment, and it will drive the point home for everyone that you, and only you, are making the decisions. Good, bad or ugly. You then become the boss for real. A little bit of theater, but necessary." He had obviously been thinking about it and she accepted that he was right again. _Dammit._

"Fine, I'll send Jacobson with him so I can keep tabs on every move he makes. Hopefully he won't do something crazy."

"Good call, Boss Lady, now come with me." He rose and tugged her hand until she followed him. Peeking out the door to make sure he would not be seen, he winked at her and crossed to his office, locking them in.

"This is the last business of the day for both of us, since we are going to cut out early. Movers are coming tomorrow. You are taking this office, relegating yours to the army of admins I'm sure you are going to need to do all the things you will no longer be handling. It is your call what furniture you want to keep or store."

"Brian, I just got settled into mine, why would I move?" It made no sense to her. It was his office and she knew she would feel like a trespasser every time she was in it without him.

He unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk, scooping up the binoculars, and leading her to the windows. Handing them to her he pointed in the direction of the studio. She put them up to her eyes and looking through them, she could see most of the interior work space of the building. He leaned into her, placing a hand in the middle of her back saying "You need this office, to keep an eye on what matters to me."

*************************************************************************************

Emmett disembarked the jet, still trying to get a hold of Ted, hoping to catch up with him over the weekend. He had no idea where he was going, so assumed the driver of the car had the details. He figured he would work on his tablet during the drive.

"Aren't you The Queer Guy?" The driver asked.

He raised his head and nodded. She wore the dark uniform well and it coordinated sharply with her pitch black hair, which was cut in a smart pageboy, accenting classic good looks. Dark brown eyes, winged brows, and full lips made her casually pretty. She had deep olive skin that spoke of her Mediterranean ancestry and white curlicues of a tattoo peeked above her collar, to her ear.

"My name is Lara, by the way, and I'm to be your driver while you're in town." She smiled at him in the mirror.

"I'm not anymore. The Queer Guy I mean." Emmett returned her smile. "Do you happen to know of a good, gay dance club?" He asked and was puzzled by her guffaw of laughter until she said, "You should ask the Boss, he owns half a dozen."

Emmett raised a brow and quipped "Ya don't say."

*************************************************************************************

Six o'clock found Brian, Cynthia, and Emmett at a high top in an Irish pub named Rocks, discussing everything about nothing while Brian out drank them two to one. He was not yet completely inebriated, but was certainly feeling no pain.

"Emmett, I have a proposal." He tried lighting his cigarette twice, failing comically.

"I thought you didn't believe in marriage" Emmett lit it for him and Brian pinched his cheek a little too hard in retaliation.

"I want you to work for me here." His head rolled a bit and his eyes were glassy, causing Cynthia some concern.

"I have a job, sweetie, and I appreciate the offer…."

"No, no, no, I want to buy into your business and I want you to move it here. You can use one of my, I mean our, restaurants until the hotel is finished. Then, use it for your headquarters. You can run the whole damn place if you like." He could not seem to focus on his glass.

"Brian, you're drunk and don't know what you're saying." Emmett cajoled.

"I'm not drunk!" Brian was petulant, a sure sign. "Just promise to hear me out tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure thing, honey, whatever you want." Emmett declared, knowing Brian would not give up.

Brian saw Everett come into the bar, gave Emmett the "hey, look over there" eye, and saw the appreciation come over the face of his comrade.

"My, my, he's a tall drink of water. You know him?"

"Yep" Brian said as he linked arms with Emmett, drawing him to his feet. "He's Special Forces, my head of security, aaannnddd Cynthia's date." He said the last with a mocking leer aimed at her, while she gaped at him. She had been set up and now she knew it. He kissed her cheek with a loud smack and hauled Emmett to the door, giving Everett a mock bow as they passed.

*************************************************************************************

Michael and Ben drove Justin to the country house, after Michael closed the store, in their new SUV. It was so new that Justin had to smile as Michael played with all the buttons while extolling on its upgrades. He grew more nervous as the miles passed, not knowing what he would find at the big house. He had really wanted to live there with Brian, making a life together, away from the city. Empty, since they had called off the wedding, he wanted a last look before letting that dream die. Ben parked in the driveway, in front of the entry.

Justin fished the tooled leather fob, with its single key, from his pocket and let them in. His companions spent several minutes taking in the grandeur. He imagined he must have had the same expression of disbelief when Brian had brought him here the first time, the only time. The day he proposed and they had loved in front of the fireplace. It had been a brief glimpse of a future they could have had.

"Wow, I mean, you told us it was grand, but this? This is, WOW." Ben was rarely at a loss for words, and Justin could appreciate the sentiment.

"Holy shit." Michael's eyes were as big as saucers. "I think it's bigger than Wayne Manor. Does it have a bat-cave?"

"I don’t think so, but I've never seen the whole house, so I guess there could be." Justin wandered to the parlor and its furniture covered in ghostly shrouds. He ran a hand along the mantle and the windowsill much as he had done that day two years ago. His stomach lurched at the thought. _Two years. Why did he keep it? He hates the country._

Ben and Michael stayed quiet, as if speech would break the spell of reverie that Justin seemed to be under. They stood together near the wall as he wandered around the room, stopping to touch things, or pick them up only to put them back down. Eventually he ended up with his hands in his pockets, staring into the empty fireplace, and a glance at each other had them retreating to the entryway, giving him some privacy.

*************************************************************************************

Brian led Emmett through what seemed a never ending series of doors and hallways, giving the southerner an unrestricted view of Brian in his club clothes. Dark slim fitting jeans (that hugged _every_ curve), black Gucci half boots with no heel, and a raw silk shirt in midnight blue with the top three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled above his elbow. He often thought the man should have been a model, or a stripper, since everything (and Nothing) looked so good on him.

Emmett felt the music thump in his chest as they neared what he hoped was the final door. Brian opened it with a flourish and a bow, startling the bouncer on the other side. The full impact of the music hit both men, each pausing for a moment to savor what always felt like a homecoming. Snagging the felt- tipped marker from the bouncer's shirt pocket, Brian signed his name on Emmett's exposed collarbone.

"You want _anything,_ just have one of the employees black light you. No charge." Brian's wicked leer had Emmett clapping happily.

"Aww, aren't you sweet. Guess being the boss has its perks, huh?" He gave Brian a huge smile and waggled his hips and eyebrows suggestively.

"Save it for the boys, Emmy-Lou." Brian laughed while heading for the bar.

They ordered drinks, (Cosmo and Beam), casually leaned against the bar, scoping out the action on the dance floor. Brian made quick work of cutting a young buck from the herd, tossing "Be back in 7" over his shoulder, heading to the back room for his first blow job of the night.

"Some things never change." Emmett said aloud, to no one in particular.

"He'll be back, though you're not exactly his type" said a voice from his left.

Emmett turned while sipping his drink, almost choking on it when presented with the face (body) that owned it. "Oh, we're just old friends." He said to the Shirtless, Wet Dream.

"Good." Wet Dream replied. "Wanna dance?"

*************************************************************************************

Melanie loaded the dishwasher as Lindsay put away the leftover food. Dinner had been awkward with Lindsay's forced happy conversation about nothing, and Melanie not falling for it. With the cleanup finished Melanie decided that enough was enough and said so.

"Stop stalling Linds."

The blonde tucked hair behind her ears and smoothed her sweaty hands on the thighs of her jeans as she sat at the table. She picked at a loose thread on the placemat saying "Brian wants me to have a baby."

Melanie could not hide the shock she felt. "What on earth makes him think we want another kid? We planned two and we have two. Jenny starts preschool next year, and why would he think _he_ could make _that_ decision for _us_ anyway? The answer is no." She was pissed off that Lindsay was even considering it.

"Mel," Lindsay said in a placating tone "it would not be our baby. It would be his." She let that bomb drop and picked at the thread, while the implications sank in.

"I would be a surrogate, nothing more. Women do it all the time." She rationalized.

"No, Lindsay, there are other things to consider. Health care, and your job, not to mention what kind of parents the two of them will make. Out fucking and sucking all night. I don’t think so." She rolled her eyes, shook her head, as she became more resolved in her denial.

"I know, but who are we to judge? My parents didn’t think we should have kids, because we're lesbians, is it any less wrong for us to judge Brian for his life?" She hated that her voice sounded pleading, even to her own ears.

Melanie stared at her for a moment before asking "How does Justin feel about it? He's just getting his career started, how does he feel about midnight feedings and ear infections? A baby would certainly cramp their style." She chuckled at her own humor.

"I don’t honestly know how Justin would feel, since I didn’t talk to him and neither did Brian. Justin left him, Mel."

"So, what, now he wants a baby to replace his boy toy? That's rich."

*************************************************************************************

"So how does it feel to be partner?" Everett asked to break the ice. They had been sitting in stilted silence for exactly four minutes and he couldn’t take it anymore.

Figuring the subject was safe enough Cynthia said "Not much different than before. We have always been a team."

Everett could tell there was something hidden in that statement and pressed on. "Really? How long is always?" It was fascinating to watch as she schooled her features into nonchalance and he caught the hint of remembered sadness when she spoke. "Just…always." She made direct eye contact with him, daring him to push for more, and though he was up for the challenge, he let it be, not wanting her to have a reason to end their date. _I will get my answers…in time._

"Alright, consider the subject dropped, for now." He treated her with his most charming smile.

"I'll just bet that smile gets you into more panties than I could count, or you can remember, doesn’t it." She smirked, as the barb hit.

"Yes ma'am it does. As I'm sure you're aware, being in big business and all, a charming smile can do more than a bunch of pretty words ever could." He leaned forward on the table and gave her another one until a mild blush colored her cheeks. She leaned in as well, until their faces were merely inches apart, tapped her beer bottle to his in a toast, and murmured "Touche'."

He gave her credit for her brazenness as he resumed a relaxed position in his seat and she did the same. Narrowing his eyes at her, he asked, "Does it bother you?"

She laughed, "The amount of panties you've been in? Or that you can't remember them?"

"My age." He blurted, and it was his turn to blush and Cynthia saw what a touchy subject it was for him. He looked at ease. Like he did not really care what her answer was, but he watched for her reaction intently and sipped his beer. _It's more important than he admits._

"No, I can't say that it does." She offered, and by way of explanation, followed with "I too, have had my share of lovers and don’t want to be judged for the quantity. I appreciate men in general, and good -looking men as a rule." She gestured his direction appreciatively. "I have _no_ parameters for age, color, race, or social standing when I want a good time, which is frequently and without complications. Does that bother _you?"_

He shook his head "No, in fact I find it…titillating, and somewhat challenging." She raised her brows in question and he offered, "There is a lot to be said for experience. In life, in love, and…"

"in sex." She finished for him, humored by his openness.

"That too." He conceded huskily.

They sat in silence for a few moments, in tune with each other in a way neither had expected. When the waitress returned, asking if they needed another beer, Everett wordlessly deferred to Cynthia, letting her decide if the date was over. He was weirdly proud of her when she looked him dead in the eye and ordered another round.

*************************************************************************************

Brian leaned against the wall in the near darkness of the back room getting his cock sucked. Other men were paired or grouped around him in various stages of undress/copulation. Moans of pleasure, flesh slapping flesh, and dirty talk, floated in the air like the odor of mixed colognes and sweat. _Back rooms are all the same, so are the tricks._ Brian had difficulty getting his head (pun intended) into what was going on with his dick. He ran a hand through the dark hair of the man currently trying to get him off, but was unsatisfied with the texture. _Not the same._ It upset him on some base level. Glancing down, he met the eyes of the kneeling youngster and instead of seeing the guys green ones, he imagined blue. _SHIT!_ His mind flashed with varying images of Justin in the same position causing his dick to swell even more. Green Eyes took it as a sign he was doing well and went at it with more gusto causing Brian to get even more irritated. _It shouldn't take this long. Justin would have had me begging by now. Christ! The man could get me off like no one else. Using hands and lips and tongue to drive me crazy, especially when he wanted something he didn’t think I'd give him._ He was close to coming just thinking about it, and that realization hit him like a sucker punch.

Well and truly pissed now, and wishing to drive Justin from his brain, he said aloud "Who's got tabs?" and disembodied hands came into view, full of drugs. He replaced a few with cash and snapped at Green Eyes because he had stopped sucking. "You need more practice. Get back to it." He dry swallowed the pills and shrugged when the man told him to fuck off then left him standing there. Not one to waste a boner, Brian took matters into his own hand, literally, finally getting his rocks off while the drugs kicked in and Justin danced in his head.

Weaving his way through the crowd, he raised a hand at the bartender who had his drink ready and waiting for him by the time he made it to the bar. Knocking it back, relishing the burn, he scanned the crowd for Emmett. Indicating a refill, he asked the bartender, Dan, if he had seen Emmett. "Not since you dropped him and he hit the dance floor with Jerome." He said, moving off to wait on other patrons.

Jerome was a sleaze, but he paid his membership dues on time, and did not cause trouble. Brian drank his latest shot and moved through the dancing bodies until he bumped into Emmett who seemed to be having a good time.

"Dance with me." He said to Emmett, as he cut between him and Jerome, who was about to complain but quickly changed his mind when Brian focused all of his loathing on him and so melted into the crowd.

"Bri-an," Emmett whined, "I was saving him for later."

"Don’t bother, the guy's a douche."

The music blasted as they danced, invitations came and went, but both men were content. They danced for a long time, until sweat soaked their shirts and thirst drove them from the dance floor. Ordering a couple bottles of water, Emmett turned to pass one to Brian and was just in time to see him hit the floor. He bent down, to see what the problem was, as one of the huge bouncers appeared out of nowhere. Brian tried to stand, not even making it to sitting, and fell back again. Emmett leaned in closer when Brian fisted a hand in his shirt and pulled.

"Get…me….outta here." He slurred then went limp.

Emmett and the bouncer locked eyes over Brian's body. The big man's badge identified him as Kurtis Kollie and Emmett was a little put- off by the fact that the man was texting while his boss was out cold on the floor.

"Um, excuse me, I hate to interrupt your social life, but as you can see, my friend here is in need of some assistance." Emmett was working himself into a fine snit, but Kurtis cut him off.

"Yes sir, I just arranged for his car to be brought around so we can get you two on your way. I'm certain he wouldn’t want a scene. Well, not this one anyway." So saying, he hefted Brian up, indicating for Emmett to follow, and led the way to the exit.

*************************************************************************************

Ted waved to the security guard in the lobby as he left the station and climbed into the waiting sedan. He had been the last to leave for the day, which suited his mood just fine. He wanted no conversations or interactions, he just wanted to unwind. A Verdi opera, maybe, on the stereo and a nice glass of wine to relax and let the events of the day ruminate so he could pick it apart, to find out how he didn’t see it coming. He was not surprised that Brian had made Cynthia a partner, but was a teeny little bit miffed that he, himself, had not been chosen as well. His new contract stated in legal jargon what his duties were now, and to be frank, it was no different than he had already been doing. The exception being, a non-disclosure agreement and his new salary. He was happy with the raise, considering it his due, but was more than a little freaked out by Brian's irreverence when Ted pressed for information for the changes. His first thought when his boss had said it was for personal reasons, had been a recurrence of cancer. Brian had denied it and all other lines of questioning until finally hiding out in Cynthia's office. _No doubt making their plans to leave work early._ Ted was slightly bitter that he was not invited.

The last thing he expected was to find Blake standing in the lobby of his apartment building. _Fuck!_

Blake had that concerned, sympathetic look on his face that drove Ted crazy. He saw it as Blake thinking he was a lost soul in need of redirection to the right path. It was that look, that instant, that Ted accepted their relationship had ended. He could no longer look or think about the man, without negativity. Ted assumed it would be best to get it over with quickly, like ripping off a bandage, and held up his hand to stop the flow of a lecture before it began.

"I'm sorry I didn’t call you back, and even sorrier that you felt you needed to come here. The fact of the matter is, you and I both know it is over. I hope you can forgive me for not ending it sooner, but I believe that this could never have ended any other way."

Ted did not give him the opportunity to say anything by entering the elevator alone, feeling lighter than he had in months.

Blake asked the doorman to hail him a cab and stood with his hand in his coat pocket rubbing the box that held a promise, the question still burning on his lips.

*************************************************************************************

Melanie struggled to keep it together, stay as calm as possible, through Lindsay's pro-baby diatribe for over an hour. She tried to keep her hands busy to hide the shaking, and managed, just barely, to keep her tongue in- check while Lindsay followed from room to room, relentless in her pursuit of Brian's agenda. By only half-listening to her words, Melanie suddenly became cognizant of the tone. In a moment of crystal clarity, she rounded on her spouse with barely suppressed venom.

"YOU want this baby, don’t you? Not because Brian wants it, oh no," she pointed her finger in Lindsay's face, "YOU want it because it's Brian's baby." She accused.

Lindsay reddened, "I really don’t see what the difference is, Mel. Care to enlighten me?" She asked in her best WASPY attitude.

"Oh I don’t think I will. Just understand one thing. If you put his wants, or yours, before me and the kids, I will make sure you both regret it."

Later, while Lindsay slept, Melanie made sure her position was clear, by sending Brian a text, a short and simple "no", from her number. She figured he would call, for an explanation, or give them the silent treatment. Either outcome worked for her.

*************************************************************************************

Everett was enjoying Cynthia's company immensely. She was a damn walking contradiction. He knew she was attracted to him, she'd proved that much, but he couldn’t figure out why she seemed to be denying herself. She flirted shamelessly, was comfortable with almost every topic of conversation, but when he alluded to them having an affair, she would subtly retreat. He was just about to broach the subject when his phone emitted a double ring.

They both stood to leave as he answered, knowing the signal meant priority one. Brian was in trouble, and Everett was to come immediately. Reading the text message, he offered to take Cynthia home before going to Brian's, but she declined.

Everett was torn between doing his job, and not wanting the evening with her to be over. She let him off the hook by kissing his cheek and whispering in his ear, "Another time."

*************************************************************************************

The elevator door opened into a short hallway furnished in exquisite taste. Emmett pegged it for Brian's style immediately. Hauling the man's legs was harder than he thought due to their considerable length and limpness. He juggled them a bit and was grateful he did not have Brian's top half. Noah, the driver, had a grip under each arm and they finally, comically, managed to get him into the apartment and somewhat on the couch. Face down, left arm twisted over the small of his back, and both limbs on his right side hanging to the floor.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don’t think I can carry him again." Noah panted, out of breath.

So was Emmett, "s'all right. Maybe I'll just" he dragged in air "roll him to the floor."

They gave each other cheeky grins, reaching for Brian to do just that, when the sound of the elevator arriving put Noah on alert. He automatically scanned the room, walked over to stand behind the open door, out of sight, and pulled a wicked looking knife from his boot, all in less than five seconds. Emmett did not know if he should stay where he was, impressed, or run screaming from the room in fear.

The scale tipped to the stay category upon seeing the handsome man from the bar emerge from the elevator and stop in the middle of the hallway. He called out "Hot or cold pie?" To which Noah responded "Cold" and left his post behind the door. The two men had a short conversation in the hall, spoken in undertones and code that Emmett was sure he would never understand. Everett patted the younger man on the shoulder once and sent him off.

Entering the room, Everett closed the door and locked it, checked the windows, and made a quick circuit of the entire apartment before coming to see Brian.

"Well that's a fuckin' mess I thought I would never see." Everett sagged a little.

Emmett snickered, "Being military, I would think you had seen more that your fair share of drunken shenanigans."

"Sure, and been a part of them. Rights of passage and whatnot." Everett winked. "But this," he gestured at Brian, "I'd never have thought it. I've been out drinking with him on many occasions and never, ever, have I seen him too drunk to function, let alone pass out in public. I mean, the man drinks all day. I don’t get it."

Emmett was quiet for a moment. "Come to think of it, you're right. I haven’t either. All the years I've known him, this is a first." Concern crept onto his face.

"Step one, let's get him in bed." Everett squatted with his back to the front of the couch, pulled the trailing limbs over his shoulders, wedging himself under Brian's ribcage. Hooking an arm behind his knee and using that hand to grasp Brian's, he stood and "rescue carried" his still unconscious partner to his bedroom and carefully laid him out.

"Step two, wrestle him out of his clothes." Everett reached for shoes first.

Emmett laughed and said "Under normal circumstances, you'd have to wrestle him _into_ his clothes."

Getting the joke, Everett grinned and removed socks. "Give me a hand with his overcoat?"

Emmett nodded, taking the cuff of the sleeve and holding it up, letting gravity help Everett remove Brian's arm. Once free, Everett climbed on the bed next to him, reached over Brian's torso and used the freed arm and a hand placed on his hip to pull him over onto his stomach and thus releasing his other arm and the coat from underneath his body.

"Wow, you're a real pro, huh?" Emmett admired.

"Yeah, lots of practice." As weird as it might seem, Everett was having a little bit of fun. He liked Emmett, who was now unbuttoning the shirt, so he took hold of the belt in order to remove Brian's pants. All hell broke loose when Brian's eyes snapped open and he started yelling, "Take your fucking dirty hands off of me motherfucker!" while trying to crawl to the opposite side of the bed, talking and cursing to himself. Emmett was about to say something but Brian cut loose with another tirade that made no sense as he stumbled around the room, bumping into walls and landing again on the bed, hateful words flowing out of his mouth like a river. Emmett was hurt that his friend would say things like that to him, was going to leave, go to a hotel, and turned to Everett. The man was ghost white and watching Brian like a hawk. Emmett finally caught his eye and together they moved just outside the doorway.

"It's PTSD. I've seen it before." Everett said, with no small amount of gravity.

"You mean he's done this before?" Emmett was shocked.

"No, I mean I've seen the outbursts from other people. What did he take tonight?"

"Uh, nothing. He drank a lot, and we danced but…" Emmett shook his head in the negative and watched as Everett texted Kurtis to see if he knew anything about it. Brian's shouts were soon punctuated by crashing furniture and breaking glass. Both men glanced at the door and Everett said, "Under no circumstances are you to try and wake him."

Emmett was confused. "He is awake, he's in there throwing things."

"No he isn’t. It's kind of like sleep walking. He's awake, but he is not conscious of what he is saying or doing, and likely won't remember any of it." He checked his phone and let out a muttered stream of expletives. "Kurtis says some guys from the back room confirmed drugs. Several different kinds in fact, and he…"

"Wait," Emmett interrupted. "Brian doesn’t mix drugs, and rarely takes any when he drinks that much."

"Well, he did tonight." Everett got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he remembered watching the security feed from the studio. "Shit, you don’t think he was…" He couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

"What?" Emmett was bordering on real fear now, only enhanced by the look of dread on Everett's face. He demanded an answer.

"Justin left him. You don’t think he would…try to kill himself, do you?" He hated that he even had to ask.

"Brian? No way. He loves his life, he was talking tonight about me moving here…besides, Justin is always…."

They both rushed back into the bedroom when they heard a loud thunk, a groan, and then silence. Brian was on the floor, unconscious again, blood running from his nose. Emmett wet a towel in the bathroom and came back as Everett was trying to get a pair of cutoff sweatpants on him. Sitting him upright, braced between them, they handled the nosebleed while Brian muttered unintelligibly under his breath. Everett lifted Brian's lids to check his pupils, not surprised to find him higher than a kite. They laid him back and Emmett fussed with the covers for a few minutes and settled on the side of the bed, not sure what to do next.

"You can leave, if you need to. I've got him." Everett offered when he realized how traumatic it had been for Emmett to see his friend like this.

Not sure why, Emmett said "No, thank you" as he stroked Brian's hand. "I think I'll stay."

*************************************************************************************

_He knew the nightmares were coming for him, as he fought sleep. Have to stay awake. They can't get me if I stay awake. My head hurts! Who's there!? Someone is talking about me, I can't hear them. Justin's face telling him he was leaving, why does he always leave me? Why am I not enough? Everybody always left. Except Cynthia._

_His body was bruised, cut, and in some places still bleeding. Have to get her out. I didn’t know it was going to be like this. It's too much for a little boy that’s not a little boy anymore. Get your filthy fucking hands off me motherfucker. Stop touching me, I hate you!_

_The little boy curled into himself and cried while telling himself to be quiet or the nightmares would come. The monsters in the darkness that make sleep impossible. Sneaking out of the house, so no one could hear him cry. Hurt, everything hurt. There was no escaping the pain. Just distraction. Wanting to hurt someone else as bad as I was hurting. Didn’t know my ribs were broken that time. Should have waited till I was better. Missy said she'd help. Said I could bring her. Don’t get caught, it'll be bad if you get caught._

_For some reason the belt hurt worse than his fists. Left welts of fire when it landed. Why doesn’t mom love me anymore? She used too. What did I do? Was I a bad boy? Mommy?!_

_The belt morphed into a bat. JUSTIN! He ran. No stopping it. Blood everywhere, can't make it stop. NO,NO,NO! GOD! He's gonna die, can't let him die. Love him, don't tell him. It will hurt worse. Should have told him, so he knew before he died. My fault, my fault, my fault…_

Emmett had been sweeping the glass from the floor while Everett stood to the side making calls, speaking quietly. Brian's muttering had turned into words that they could hear, though make no sense of as he alternately curled into himself and thrashed out. He held his ribs protectively shaking his head. _They listened as he called for his mother, said he hated someone, screamed Justin's name at the top of his lungs. Spoke_ _in the voice of a child asking if he was a bad boy, my fault my fault my fault._

Emmett sobbed, heart in shreds, he could only imagine happened to that little boy. He wanted to fix it, make it better, was afraid to know. Everett wiped at the tears running down his cheeks and sniffed. He had seen bad cases before, but nothing like this. It became real for Everett that Brian's trauma was not linked to a specific event or time-frame. _His whole life, his whole fucking life has been trauma._ Emmett made the excuse of putting the broom away to leave the room. Everett followed, leaving the door cracked open, just in case.

In the kitchen, Emmett disposed of the glass and put the broom back in the pantry. He could still hear Brian shouting and covered his ears, hoping to shut out the sound, forget what he had heard. Everett found him that way, felt terrible, and without thought embraced him. The comfort gave Emmett permission to let go and he spent the next several minutes crying, not knowing any other way to cope. Finally pulling himself together, he was determined to do whatever he could to help.

"Thanks. I'm okay now."

Everett took in the wan complexion, red nose, and shaking hands and thought, no you're not, but kept it to himself. The man had grit, if nothing else. "Sure you don’t want to leave? I wouldn’t blame you."

"I'm not going anywhere. Just tell me what to do." Emmett blew his nose, stood straighter. He may be queer, but he was going to prove he was a fighter too.

Everett saw the resolve, nodded once, and said "Okay, but it will get harder, before it gets better."

Two men, brought together by circumstance, reentered the lair, of the beast that was Brian Kinney.

*************************************************************************************

_The older boys on the team made fun of his scrawny build, but the girls watched him with greedy smiles. He was smart and his tests proved it. He was good at the game, but being the youngest on the team made him a target for bullies. Coach only stopped the beatings when he threatened to tell about what they had done in the shower._

_His Mom screamed at him for telling her he was not gonna go to church anymore and she couldn’t make him. He had provoked the beating that time, because he knew she would not force him to go if he had visible injuries._

_An old man, rail thin for lack of food, in a shitty apartment teaching him how to defend himself and eventually to fight back. "If you gotta fight, kid, fight dirty. They sure as hell ain't gonna follow rules."_

_Missy's big bosom pressing into his face as she hugged him close, telling him he had to go away. He wasn’t old enough to make the rules yet, but some day he would be. Someday he would make them all pay, but for now he had to go._

_Stumbling through alleys so they wouldn’t be seen, carrying the little girl on his back so she didn’t cut up her bare feet, feeling the edges of his broken ribs abrade, giving her to Missy as she called him an angel._

_Setting a lit match, to the gasoline he had poured, to hide the fact that he had stolen the treasure. They watched the flames rise, engulf the building, only leaving when they heard the sirens nearing._

_Blue eyes…blue eyes….always blue eyes. It's only time._

_*************************************************************************************_

Everett had been right, it did get worse. Emmett had expected more raging and swearing, was now wishing for it. It was easier to deal with than the tortured, gut wrenching sobs that had gripped Brian for the last two hours. He could not take it anymore and moved to lay down with his friend. Everett stopped him, telling him that it could cause more violence, but he didn’t listen.

Emmett slowly lowered himself to the bed, carefully easing his way closer to Brian. Everett took the other side in a similar manner gently laying a hand on his arm. Bloodshot eyes cracked open in a thin line and Emmett opened his arms. Brian looked over his shoulder at the person touching him and scooted closer to Emmett, laying his head on his friend's chest as he curled against his side. Pulling the hand on his arm, until Everett was snugged up behind him and his arm was over Brian and Emmett, he wasted no time falling into a more relaxed sleep. Emmett and Everett shared a grateful look, over tousled and sweaty hair. Neither would be moving for a long time, and that was okay.

*************************************************************************************

After dinner at Debbie's house Ben, Michael and Carl sat in the living room discussing Ben's interview, how badly it had turned out, with Debbie giving her opinion from the kitchen as she put food away. Michael and Carl gave platitudes that it was not as bad as Ben thought, admitting it could have gone better, but was not catastrophic as some of her other interviews had been. Trying to change the subject for Ben's sake, Michael said "Justin is looking for a place to stay, do you know of anything around here?"

"Why isn’t he staying at the loft?" Debbie asked.

Ben replied, "Seems Justin left Brian over some kind of write up in the paper".

"I saw what that asshole said about his art. I'd be pissed too. But what does that have to do with Brian?" She squawked.

Michael rolled his eyes, "Seems Brian sent in a reply that Justin took exception to".

Carl offered, "You would think, after all they've been through, they'd be able to move past petty stuff like that".

Michael shook his head, as his mother said, "Fucking drama queens, both of them. Maybe they need to be apart."

The conversation rolled on to other things, kids, jobs, and retirement for Carl. Debbie finally joined them and announced that she and Carl would be taking a cruise, all thoughts of breakups and interviews forgotten as they weighed the merits of several exotic destinations.

*************************************************************************************

Several rages and their inevitable lapses into inhuman sobs, had left Brian physically exhausted, so much so, he finally managed a dreamless slumber around three forty-five in the morning. His companions, seeing the peace they had begged for, felt comfortable enough to leave him alone for a short time and left the bedroom. They took turns in the bathroom, ambled on tired legs to the living room, and sank into opposite ends of the sofa. Neither spoke, the open bottle of Beam on the coffee table promised oblivion and absolution. Everett retrieved two short glasses and the broom. Setting the glasses on the table, he swept up the broken shards of a bottle that had been shattered on the wall. Emmett poured, then shrugged and swigged from the bottle for good measure.

"Didn’t think you'd make it back there." Everett said as he picked up the dustpan of glass.

"Why, because I'm queer?" Emmett snarked. His emotions were running high, so his patience was running very low.

"No. Because I thought you were soft. Superficial maybe. I was wrong, I'm sorry." He left with his supplies and came back with another bottle, setting it next to the almost empty first, and sagged into the sofa rubbing his hands harshly over his face and scratching at the stubble now lining his jaw.

Emmett was not sure if he should say something about Brian, but his own emotions made the choice for him. To accept, he had to give it a voice and knowing it was a bitter pill. Leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees, he let his glass dangle from his fingers.

"Some of us, queers I mean, never get to come out of a closet, since we never had the option of being in one to begin with, like me." He gave a sardonic smile that never reached his eyes. "It forces you to be brave, before you should have to be, and you get judged and bullied on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. If you are fortunate, your family loves you, if you're not so fortunate, you may be able to make a friend to tell your troubles to. They may not understand, but maybe they are willing to listen, make life bearable. Get you through the shit you're sure will break you. That was my childhood." He finished his glass and opened the new bottle to pour another. Tears fell onto the back of his arm, "But that," he gestured with his glass to the bedroom, the amber liquid sloshed in protest, "that…" his lips quivered and his words trembled, "that has _got to be_ **,** the most horrible thing I have _ever_ seen, or heard, in my life." They toasted that sentiment with another shot. Everett surmised that Emmett had had no clue about any of it. He was too tired to lie, let alone play games, so repeated his earlier question.

"Given what you know now, do you think he would do it?"

Emmett's mouth drew down into a frown while he considered, "I don’t know. I do know that, if it had been me, I'd have never made it to high school."

Everett watched as Emmett slid to his side and drifted off.

*************************************************************************************

The modest two- story brownstone in the sedate upper-middle class neighborhood was nothing like Everett had expected. No flash or extravagance in sight. It was half past five in the morning and the sky looked like it might snow. Gathering his pea coat closer, he used a gloved finger to ring the doorbell. A couple minutes passed while he watched his breath turn to fog as it left his body. He rang the bell again, this time holding it down for several seconds, longer than would be considered polite, by even the rudest person on the planet. A light went on behind the curtain in the door and he saw her peek out at him. He heard several locks turn, until she finally opened the door wearing a bathrobe and slippers.

Anyone other than Cynthia, would have read nothing on his face, he was that good. But, she had seen those eyes before, in everyone who cared enough to know the truth, including herself. She opened the door a little further in invitation and he stepped in, accused "You knew". Closing the door, she leaned back on it, crossing her arms, she met his eyes and said "And now, so do you".

She turned locks again, all four of them and offered, "I'll make some coffee, tell you what I can, but only my part. The rest is his to tell".


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grab tissues.

Chapter 3

 

                 It may have been Quixotic, but it was magnificent.

                 J.M. Barrie

 

Everett was emotionally and physically, wrung out, unsure now if he really wanted the answers he had come for. He sat on the edge of the couch in Cynthia's living room, staring into the distance, not really seeing anything. His inherent instincts to protect had served him very well, had driven his career in the military, and subsequently his security business. Because of his past success, he had learned early to trust his gut. The same gut that screamed for him to help Brian, a man he respected, maybe even counted as a friend, conversely screamed with equal volume, that he was biting off more than he could chew. Worse yet, he now knew that Cynthia had been involved, to some degree, and they were about to enter a realm he was fairly positive she did not want to relive, and not wanting to be the cause of distress, he stood, intending to make an excuse to leave.

She came back in the room then, with two red coffee cups the size of mixing bowls. She paused, not saying anything, giving him the choice to stay or go with no recriminations. He took her in, really took her in, the faded bathrobe sporting a tattered hem and a torn pocket, the wavy hair sloppily piled on the top of her head, and the features schooled into indifference. What broke it for him, was her beautiful eyes. The blue dared him to stay, to learn what he didn’t know, and therefore ruin, possibly forever, any chance at a relationship with her, if he found he couldn’t handle it. And right there, the barest flicker he almost missed, the plea that he would.

Not knowing was hard, staying would no doubt be harder, with consequences he could not fathom. But damn, he wanted the chance to see what she looked like when she was happy, knew that would never happen if he bolted now. Accepting his fate with resolve, he crossed the distance and removed the cups from her hands, letting his fingers slide over hers.

"I will tell you this," she said as they sat, she in the wingback, and he on the couch, "on two conditions. That you never, ever so much as allude to the fact that you know, let alone mention it to Brian. And you save your questions until I am finished." He settled back into his seat, conveying his acceptance of her terms. She stiffened, poised on the edge of her chair, in a rigid pose he had seen Brian use to deal with a particularly nasty situation. He wondered if she knew she used it too. Still, he kept his mouth shut and had to use both hands to handle his cup.

He watched as she breathed purposefully, ordering her thoughts, as her eyes clouded, drifting back into the past.

"I was not born here. I was born in Lithuania to a woman who's face I can't remember. For whatever reason, I was sold to a trafficker sometime before my first birthday and brought to the States to be bought by a family here. The deal fell through. It was decided, at that point, that I was to be kept until I was older and could ultimately bring in more money, first as a virgin, secondly as a prostitute. My first memories are of dark rooms, people yelling in Lithuanian, and of hunger. I did not really know how to speak, as I had not really been spoken to except for the occasional 'Do this, blahblahblah, or the Angel of Death will come for you.' I think it was some kind of joke for them.

I did not know what the words were, but the meaning was clear. 'Angelas Mirties' were the first words I remember saying and as time passed I wished the 'Angelas Mirties' would come and take me. A sad circumstance, for a child of four. People think that children that young don’t have the ability to understand the concept of death, but I tell you I wished it with a conviction so strong I ….."

She swallowed some coffee to ease her throat. "Anyway, as criminal elements do, we moved frequently. Ultimately ending up in one of the seediest parts of Hell's Kitchen. I was kept in a closet where I saw the sun, the rain, snow, all for the first time through a tiny window. I could not reach it, since I was small, and the window was near the ceiling, at ground level from the alley outside.

I saw him for the first time through that window. He had passed out in the alley, a broken arm I think. He has never said, but I cannot even imagine what I must have looked like to him, covered in my own shit, hair matted to my head, and starving. I watched him for a long time. Eventually he woke up and I remember how I felt when I saw his eyes for the first time. He was beautiful, even as a child, even to another child. 'Angelas Mirties'. But when our eyes met, I knew, and so did he, that we each had pain. Different, but the same. An unspoken understanding, that the world was not right, a mirrored plea for mercy in a place that would never give it.

He tried to open the window, unsuccessfully, and I cried when he left. I found out later that he ingratiated himself with the "leader" of the group, Yergi Putrev, over the next several months, by doing little jobs on the side. Dropping off packages, being a lookout, stuff like that. All so that he would be allowed inside of the building. He couldn’t do much at first, but he snuck me food and talked to me when he wasn’t being watched. Yergi caught him eventually and gave him the beating of his life, nearly killed him. Among other things, Yergi broke his fingers for feeding me, his jaw for talking to me, and his ribs for good measure. Laying there on the floor, after it was over, he heard them discussing what to do with the two of us. 'The boy couldn’t live to tell anyone', and I was 'more trouble than I was worth' and should be sold immediately. No loose ties. He was taken away. I don’t know what happened after that." She whispered, "I don’t want to know."

Shaking her head to remove the spidery webs of "what if's" from her mind she drank for a few moments, silently. Everett remained patient, but hardly unemotional. His gut burned, his sense of fairness, goodness, rebelled and rolled through him, making every muscle taut, wanting to hurt someone for what had been done, and having no one to punish for it. Sensing it was not over, he forced himself to relax, to wait for the rest.

Her voice, when it came, was no longer the nearly clinical tone she'd been using thus far. Now it was icy, chilling, deadly, causing the hairs to stand on Everett's arms. His gut screamed at him to leave as she spoke "He came back that night. Beaten, bloody, both eyes nearly swollen shut, in a word… broken. He moved like a marionette with a drunkard controlling the strings. I don’t know how he got in, and my imagination is enough. He opened the door to my closet and gestured for me to be quiet as he dragged a chair to the window and unlocked it, braced it open. Then, he left the way he had come. I followed him at a distance and watched as he went in search of the two men left to guard the building. They shared a single room, sleeping in twin beds set up on either side of the radiator on the wall. Their stash of drugs and money, on the table in the corner. It was the first time I saw him smile. He pulled off his shoes and with his broken fingers removed the laces, which he used to tie a hand from each man to the radiator. 'Angelas Mirties'. Stuffing the stacks of cash into his socks, he threaded the tops into his belt loops. He struggled with something in the back waistband of his pants and I helped him get it out, a metal canister that sloshed and smelled bad. He stared at me for a bit then left, closing the door behind us. He squirted the liquid all over the next room and left a trail through the closet and out the window. It was a struggle for us to get out, me so small, he was so injured. But… he did it. He pulled me to some litter in the alley and put the last of the liquid on it, then lit a match, tossing it on the pile and holding my hand as we watched it burn everything to ashes and go cold. A wordless lesson. He walked me back to the window, gestured to himself with the box of matches… then to me. I knew what he was asking and I held out my hand. He lit the match and carefully handed it to me. I can still feel the heat of it, as it burned closer to my fingers. He tried to take it back then, but I deliberately set it to the trail of fluid, and we watched from the alley across the street as the place burned. After a while we heard sirens, so he knelt and pulled me onto his back, carried me away. Neither of us had shoes."

Everett had to grit his teeth to keep from speaking. He set down his cup, for fear of breaking it in his clenched hands. He wanted to surge up, pace, rail at fate, until she faced him, for the first time since she had begun. She smiled, a full beautiful, mesmerizing smile of the redeemed. "I was free!" Love oozed from every pore of her body and her words as she spoke again. "He carried me the entire way to Missy's apartment. She took both of us in. I remember the look on her face when she saw us, worse when she smelled us. He just nodded at her and walked me to the bathroom, running some water in the tub. Missy tried to get him to leave, but I wouldn't let go of his hand. She finally relented and the two of them scrubbed me down." She laughed lightly, "I don’t know how many times they had to refill the tub. Missy gave me one of her t-shirts to wear, and being a big woman, had to safety pin the bottom so I didn’t trip. She set us both at this tiny little table in front of the stove. She turned on the oven to make the room warmer, and was about to heat some soup, when he told her I had never used silverware before. She was at a loss then, knowing we had to be hungry. He just grabbed a loaf of bread and peanut butter, nudging her away when she tried to help him as he struggled with spreading it because of his broken bones. I ate two- fisted, and started to panic when he left the room, but he came back quickly and smiled at me again. He brushed my hair with one hand, holding his ribs with the other, while I ate and Missy watched, crying the whole time, but she let us be. It took a long while to get the mats out of my hair. He was sweating pretty bad and breathing hard by the time he was done, but he just kept running his empty hand over my hair and it was then I knew what love was. He was telling me, with his hands that I was safe, protected. He would never hurt me, or allow anyone else to do so. I could trust him." Her tears fell freely and her voice was watery but she was not ashamed. "He made a bed for me in her recliner, still rubbing my hair til I fell asleep."

Everett was hollow. Every shred of emotion he thought he had possessed, had been brought to the surface, scraped bloody and removed from his soul by her words. _How does a person come back from that? Get back the person he was such a short time ago.?_ He knew the answer…never.

Cynthia laid a hand on his knee, continuing "He ended up in the hospital that night. Missy, had Tom, her neighbor take him, because he was afraid to leave me with anyone else and knew I couldn’t come with him. He almost died giving me a family. I have never known the full extent of his injuries, but I do know it was a while before he came to see me again. He taught me many things, made sure we had what we needed, even if he had to steal them, even after his family moved to Pittsburgh a couple years later.

Brian Kinney gave me a name, my family, my education, my career, and ultimately my life. I owe him more than I could ever repay, though it won't stop me from trying. Right or wrong, hell or high water, he will always, unequivocally have my support and my loyalty regardless of any personal cost to myself, not because he asked for it or demanded it… but because he never would."

She radiated fierceness, and Everett was stunned at the picture she made, resolute in her stance to allow him to be whatever he chose. It was not a reward for what he did for her. It was love. It was the purest possible form of love that came with no restrictions, regrets, or boundaries, unencumbered by conditions, personal desires, or vanities . It was dauntless and relentless.

Everett swelled with pride. Proud of her, and proud of Brian, for everything they had accomplished together. It filled to capacity, the emptiness she had just created in his soul. New understanding colored and gave nuance to everything he had seen or knew about them, and he was grateful.

_I hope, one day, to have love like that._

He opened his mouth to say so, and stopped when he remembered her conditions for this baring of secrets. She moved to sit next to him, "You have questions?"

Hundreds of them raced through his head in a nanosecond and he settled on just one.

"Yeah, I do, but I _need_ the answer to only one…"

Puzzlement had her nerves on- edge, she had expected a lot more, until she realized that the most important of what he might ask, could be answered with one statement, and she was intrigued that he had worked it out so quickly. She was smiling at him, impressed, when she answered "Angelas Mirties?, the Angel of Death? He was ten years old."

His thoughts raced with differing outcomes of his next steps. He held her hand briefly then had her follow him to the door and unlock it for him. Turning to her, he considered his words carefully before saying "Thank you, for the gift. I'll come back", as he kissed her forehead, and left.

She redid the deadbolts thinking _, yeah, he just might._

*************************************************************************************

_Fuck! I left the goddamn drapes open again! Just want to sleep._

A peek from under the thick comforter confirmed a time of ten minutes to ten. Brian groaned, his raw throat protested, and his bleary eyes felt like he could build sand castles in them. His whole body hurt and he wondered if he had been in a fight. He couldn’t remember. Try as he might, the only image that came to him was Justin sucking him off in the backroom. His gut clenched, that couldn’t be right. Justin was gone. THAT, he remembered. Emmett, yeah he remembered being in the bar with him and Cynthia.

_Yay, progress!_

The club. Backroom. Angry. Angry? At who? Justin. No. Himself? Don’t want to think about it. Drugs. Of course. Wait, drug _(s)?_ _SHIT!_

Another groan and a hearty cough to clear the lungs. He needed a smoke. He needed coffee, a lot of coffee. He needed to piss and a sniff said he needed a shower too.

_Fuck it all!_

No help for it now, his bladder told him he had to get up.

In the bathroom, he leaned on the wall as he peed, not sure if his legs would hold him. He had a killer headache and his mouth tasted like raw sewage. Flushing the toilet, he ambled to the sink and quickly brushed his teeth to clear the funk. He avoided the mirror. He was not ready for that yet. He lit a cigarette and was careful, to not get it wet, when he stepped into the shower. He smoked while the jets did their work and he took an inventory of his body. Moving parts this way and that, he found no outward signs of physical violence, until he reached his face. His nose hurt like a bitch and was the likely culprit for his headache. He just hoped it wasn’t broken. How he had made it this far in his life without a broken nose was a miracle unto itself, and he wanted to keep it that way. He was rather fond of it, exactly the way it was.

Setting his cigarette butt down, he washed, and carried it out to the wastebasket. As he was leaning to make sure it went in, he notice the bloody towel in the dirty clothes hamper.

_A swing of a bat. Blood, lots of blood. A bloody scarf…Pull yourself together Kinney! It's over! He's alive!_

How did it get there?

He looked in the mirror, the swollen bridge of his nose and the bit of puffiness around his eyes, confirmed an impact and a nosebleed. Problem solved.

In his bedroom, he pulled on a black pair of low-cut briefs, over still damp skin and made his way to the kitchen making sure to have his hand on something as he walked, to catch himself, in case his legs gave out. He started the small coffee pot, grabbing a beer from the fridge and drinking it, while the pot brewed. Still shaky when it finished, he sat on a barstool to doctor it with half a cup of sugar and stirred it with the handle of a serving spoon from the utensil jar next to his elbow.

After gulping half the pot, the shaky feeling subsided to a general instability, and he wandered to the living room windows, still carrying the coffee pot. He watched as cars streamed by endlessly, and people walked, or rode bikes, pushed strollers, all the normal things people did on a Saturday morning. He imagined himself pushing outward, into that world, little tendrils of himself connecting to the people below, and felt, for a few seconds, how the people he touched, felt as they went about their lives. Little snippets life. Of joy, as a mother held her baby. Of freedom, as a couple of boys wound through the pedestrians on skateboards. Of love, as an older couple held hands as they ate brunch at the bakery. Of sadness, as a man left a woman crying on the sidewalk.

This was his most closely guarded secret. The one he had never told anyone, ever. It was what made him so very good in his profession, and tortured him in life. He could intuitively feel what others felt, by their body language, especially if there was physical contact. It did not even have to be overt. He could read the smallest motion, a glimmer, a flicker, even if it was contrary to what the person was saying. People, to him, were the proverbial open book. A glance and he could practically read their bodies, and their emotions were his to feel. He didn’t know what to call it, or even if there was a name for it, it just was. A superpower, Mikey would call it. A curse, if you had it, and the reason he was so guarded all the time.

"Brian?"

He snapped back to himself and turned towards the voice, dripping coffee on his foot. Emmett was sitting up on the couch and Brian read him and his needs in an instant. Emmett needed to see that he was alright, which meant he had seen him when he wasn’t, and was bombarded with a memory of Emmett holding him last night, as the nightmares came.

_Shit! He saw what a fucking mess I am, and he's scared shitless. Needs me to be me. Or, at least appear to be me. Sadness, I feel his sadness like a weight, and his pity like chains._

Brian straightened, projected strength, and opened his arms, not allowing his unstable legs to betray him. Emmett flew off the couch into his embrace and the comfort it offered. Brian traded Emmett's fear for him, and gave him back thanks. He held Emmett's head to the crook of his neck and stroked his hair, rubbing his ear with his jaw until the waves of fear and sadness subsided. Then he projected gratitude, with a tight hug. Emmett pulled back until he could see Brian's face and showed him the acceptance he felt, for the gratitude and the vulnerability he was not supposed to have witnessed. Their embrace changed very subtly, and it was Emmett holding Brian. Brian, unsure what was happening, risked openness, and sagged into him when he felt nothing but comfort. No more pity, sadness, or fear. Just comfort. It had been so long since he had last felt that particular emotion, without the hindrance of others, but he was not surprised that it came from Emmett. He had long since known that the two of them shared painful similarities in their pasts, though he did not know the details. Here was someone who understood the levels a person went to, to protect that past from prying eyes, so he squeezed Emmett very tightly, then let him go, and offered him the coffee pot. Emmett gave him a big, cheeky grin, and downed the rest.

*************************************************************************************

Justin knew he should call his mother, let her know he was in town, but managed to procrastinate long enough to justify putting it off until the next day. Daphne rolled her eyes in disgust when he said as much, and flounced, yes flounced, off to her bedroom, slamming the door for punctuation. He knew his Mom could find him a place pretty fast, and was in fact, the reason for the procrastination. Wanting a place of his own, and actually having it, were two very different things. The first a symbol, and the second a finality, a door closed. He was not yet ready to face that.

How was it, that after seven years, he was right back where he started? The push/pull of their relationship should have settled into something closer to normal, shouldn’t it? In all those years, there were times that were easy, relaxed, enjoyable, and then bang…push/pull all over again. Just when he would think he knew Brian, some torpedo would blast that notion out of the water. Sudden events of normalcy, followed by the inevitable return of "Untouchable Brian", insights into a deeper, more complex individuality, then a superb display of hedonistic splendor. The move to New York had been good for them and their relationship. It allowed them to be together while they each focused on their work. It had been the closest to normal they had ever been, for the longest time it had ever lasted, and he had believed that it would really work this time.

Justin drank a beer as he thought about this latest incident. The write-up still chapped his ass, but in retrospect not as much as Brian "letting" him leave. He had not even tried to talk him out of it or work through the problem. Unbidden, came a memory, "It's your choice where you want to be".

Justin nearly choked. How many times had he heard Brian say those words, or something like them? Choices, choices, always choices. It made his head spin. Why couldn’t he just let it be? More importantly, why had he been pulling away? Justin knew Brian had not been sleeping well, and had attributed the moodiness to being tired, but that should have eased when the new offices opened and were operational. Instead, it had gotten worse. Later nights, quiet phone calls, and what he realized now was an increased secrecy that had nothing to do with business. Was he having an affair? That couldn’t be right, they fucked other people openly. So…not an affair.

Come to think of it, now that he was away from it, quite a few things had morphed over the last few months. Brian's drive to have the hotel and the art department facility built simultaneously, like there was a rush or something. The increase in security personnel and the new twenty-four hour surveillance. Cynthia's knowing looks and reticent conversation. The way she watched Brian like a hawk, looking for…for… he didn’t know what for. But it all felt just a little bit off center. Like a play. Real life played out with a script.

Justin didn’t know why he hadn’t picked up on it earlier. He should have. God, he should have. Shame tied him in knots again, as he thought, about the night he had "taken" Brian in the studio. Brian had been completely compliant. Taking what Justin had thought of at the time as punishment. The epiphany now, with the absence of anger, was what Brian had really given him, in his own way. An apology…before the transgression. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that it was truth. The question now was… How the fuck, did it all fit together?

*************************************************************************************

Lindsay woke up on the couch….again. She could tell, as mother's can, that her children were not home. A check of the front hall table showed Melanie's purse was gone. She was alone in the house. It was not like Mel to just take the kids and leave without telling her, but they were not exactly speaking, at the moment. They were not, not, speaking, just well… Lindsay didn’t want to think about that right now.

She ran a hot bath and sat in the water thinking. Mostly about Brian and a baby. She could not get the idea to leave her alone. When he had first asked, her heart had leapt and she had wanted to agree on the spot, but something had kept her mouth from saying the words. Mel had been right on that score, she did want his baby. It was not even a big admission for her. It just felt right.

The more she thought about it though, the face he had made when she didn’t answer, the way his lips had pulled into his mouth… shit, he already knew what the answer would be. Then why ask in the first place? She could see he was sincere and believed he really did want a baby. But as Melanie had asked, why now? What had changed? Lindsay pulled the plug while questions circled her brain, like the water around the drain.

*************************************************************************************

Harry was sitting at his desk waiting for a fax, when his desk phone rang. It was Saturday, so no one should be expecting him to be there to answer, except his wife, and he picked up the receiver thinking it would be her. It wasn’t.

"Mr. Pitts, it's Everett Ryker, from Security Force, we met the other day in Mr. Kinney's office."

Harry was a little surprised that the man even had this number, and assumed that Brian must have given it to him.

"Yes, I remember you, Mr. Ryker. Is everything all right?"

Everett wasn’t sure how to answer that question, so avoided it all together.

"Mr. Pitts.."

"Harry please, Mr. Ryker."

"Fine, Harry, you can call me Everett or Ryker. Can we be finished with the pleasantries?" he sounded inpatient.

Harry had a little niggle of worry scoot up his spine.

"I called you to request a meeting, a private meeting, between the two of us."

Harry had no doubts, that if he tried to say no, Ryker would make sure a meeting happened anyway, but he still could not agree. Harry was a no holds barred kind of lawyer and was not afraid of much in this world, but a pissed off Brian Kinney was not something he wanted to tempt.

"Listen, Ryker, I am Mr. Kinney's attorney, and I don’t think that anything you and I speak about could bode well for him or our business together. Without his direct permission, I am going to decline at this time." He hung up the phone, but he felt bad about it, he really liked the man. Still, he wondered, what could he possibly have wanted to talk about?

The fax machine began to spit out the report he had been waiting for and he started reading it, as it printed.

FEDERAL CORRECTIONS FACILITY CONFIRMS RELEASE DATE FOR SUBJECT YOU REQUESTED AS 16NOV2007.

Harry quickly jotted a note on the bottom of the fax and sent it back.

Shit, he thought, that did not leave much time. Less than the three to six months they had thought.

*************************************************************************************

Debbie and Carl were canoodling the morning away in their bed. Carl was looking forward to putting in his retirement papers soon and was talking to Debbie about scheduling the cruise to coincide with his last day on the job.

"We can't do that, Carl. We should have a big party, to celebrate your retirement, not disappear." It was no secret Debbie liked parties, but Carl couldn't care less.

"I don’t know, Red, wouldn't you just like to sneak away, you and me and nothing but sun and water…" he nuzzled her neck to let her know what else would be going on.

Debbie's laughter crackled, "Yeah, you, me, and three thousand other passengers".

"You know what I mean", he said as his hands wandered under the sheets.

"Jesus, Carl, are we even gonna make it out of the cabin?"

He did not answer her and within minutes, she really didn’t care.

*************************************************************************************

In an effort to lighten the mood and put last night firmly in the past, Brian invited Emmett to the bakery across the street and down the block from the apartment. They talked about Emmett's business. How well it was doing in Pittsburgh, so Brian reiterated his proposal of a New York headquarters.

"I don’t get it," Emmett said around a mouthful of éclair "why me? You could start your own party planning company."

Brian nodded, "Yeah, but _you_ are really good at it, and I was hoping you would take the Directors seat for the hotel. You have a good eye, a real talent for making clients feel catered to. Frankly, I'm going to need someone for that role, since the hotel will be housing guests of Kinnetik. When the position was discussed, I felt I needed someone I could trust with my clients. It is important to me and to Kinnetik, that they get the best service available, and I believe that to be you." He toyed with his fork.

Emmett stopped chewing, surprised somewhat by Brian's effusiveness.

"Wow, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. I'm touched."

"Well, don’t go getting all lesbionic, it's a big job, lots of responsibilities. Probably won't leave you much time for a social life for a while." Brian drank more coffee, but pushed his chocolate croissant away, unsure why he had ordered it. _It's Justin's favorite._

"Besides," he said, clearing the lump in his throat, "you'd have access to some of the best shopping in the world right at your doorstep, and executive membership at all of my clubs."

"Well, since you put it that way, okay…partner." Emmett gave that big smile that was so contagious, offering his hand to Brian.

Brian took it in a firm handshake, sealing their agreement, not at all surprised that the other man would make such a big decision so quickly and barked a short laugh when Emmett pointed to his croissant and asked "You gonna eat that?"

*************************************************************************************

Farther down the street, a man sat outside on a bench, watching the door of the bakery the two men had entered. He was cold, wishing he had remembered to bring his gloves, as he scanned the pedestrians, looking for something out of place. Someone that lingered too long, or a surreptitious glance, anything that might point out who was on duty today so he could add it to his log. His job was usually easier, since his mark was most often driven to his destinations, and therefore his security would be the driver, but today he had walked.

Getting up, he matched his pace with the foot traffic, and headed in the general direction of the bakery on the opposite side of the street. He was about half of the way there when he got his first clue. A man stopped about ten feet from the doorway to take a call, and removed his ball cap for a moment to scratch his head, then replaced it. Nothing out of the ordinary, really, but what piqued his interest was the decidedly military haircut that motion had revealed. On closer inspection, the perfectly fitted clothes, and the ironed crease in the jeans, lent further weight to scale.

He pulled a map out of his coat pocket and approached, on the premise of asking for directions, when the man put his cell phone away.

"Excuse me", he used a neutral mid-western accent, and the man glance at the door to the bakery. _One._ "Could you direct me to Central Park West, I seem to have become hopelessly lost." Affecting a sheepish look, and letting his shoulders droop a little, he unfurled the map and stood between the man and the doorway.

"Uh, sure." The man said as his eyes drifted over the shoulder of the tourist. _Two._

"I'm a little embarrassed to admit, but I'm not even sure of where I am now." He sidled around until the door was in his line of sight behind the man now looking at the map.

"You are here, see, and Central Park West is here." He pointed out quickly and turned his head at an awkward angle to spy the door again. _Three, gotcha!_

"Thanks, uh, …"

"Marc."

"Thanks, Marc."

He wandered far enough away, to make it seem like he was gone, then followed a few minutes later when Kinney and the Queen, exited the shop, keeping well out of the bodyguard's sights.

*************************************************************************************

Behind miles of fencing and barbed wire, deep in the warren of concrete wall and steel doors, the prisoner sat on the lower bunk of his cell, reading the paper, pissed off that it was already almost a week old.

It had taken months and months of good behavior and greasing the right palm, to score a cell by himself, giving him the first time he had been happy since his arrival.

"Let's go." The guard banged his baton on the steel door of his cell.

"Permission to take the paper?" Asked the prisoner, as he handed it through the little barred window for inspection.

The guard rifled it and handed it back before releasing the door.

The prisoner fell in line with the other inmates as they all shuffled to, what was optimistically called, the community room. Taking his usual seat against the wall, he pretended to glance through the paper, until he came to the article that he had meant to read, circled in black pen. He read every syllable slowly, to commit it to memory and passed it to the man across the table from him. Hands covered in dragon tattoos, running all the way up the arms to disappear under the orange jumpsuit, picked up the paper and read the article, committing the time and location to memory.

"…Mr. Kinney, in conjunction with many of his most affluent clients, will be hosting a fundraiser for the homeless in New York. Mr. Kinney has supported this cause since taking up residence here and is sure to top last years' donations."

Blah, blah, blah, and there it was…

"…on Saturday, October 27, 2007. Festivities begin at 8:00 pm aboard the Crown Princess Cruise Ship in Manhattan."

The two inmates locked eyes, no words said. The tattooed man walked casually away to send orders outside the walls, while former police chief and mayoral candidate, Jim Stockwell, disposed of the paper into a trashcan bolted to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

         All of this happened before, and it will all happen again.

         J.M. Barrie

 

 

Brian checked his text messages as Emmett browsed the boutique for a costume to wear to the fundraiser. The text from Harry was unexpected, and would disrupt his timetable considerably. Cynthia wanted him to call when he was alone, but let him know it was not an emergency. Everett the same.

Still nothing from Justin.

Either the lad was still pissed, or he was serious. Brian didn’t know which was worse. He felt like shit about it, but needed the man to leave, and no amount of begging or pleading (which he would never do), could have accomplished that feat as efficiently as one of his predictable queen-outs over Brian's dominating behavior. They were supposed to attend the party tonight, together, but with Justin gone, Brian had invited Emmett, spurring the current last minute shopping spree.

Emmett was holding outfits in front of his body and asking Brian's opinion. There followed a series of "no", "no", "hell no", "fuck that", and finally, "look Honeycutt, these are big-wigs. It's one thing to be a big queen, but that doesn’t mean you should go _as_ The Queen. Especially if you go with me." Emmett pouted as he put back the Marie Antoinette costume.

"Well, what do you suggest then? The Jolly Green Giant?" he persisted, holding up a green skinsuit.

"You'd look more like Gumby." Brian snarked as he rifled through the rack.

"Come on Brian, give me a hint or something. Who are you going as?"

Brian did not want to answer that, because he was no longer going to wear the costume he and Justin had picked out for the event. It would have been fine if they were going together, but now that Justin was gone, he was not going to be half of a costumed pair. No. Fucking. Way.

"Brian?"

Absently he said, "Doesn’t matter now, I've changed my mind." He picked out two outfits and handed one to Emmett. "Care to be my assistant this evening?"

Emmett clapped his hands together in glee, "Ooooh! Yes!"

*************************************************************************************

Damn him! Damn and double damn him.!

Tasha walked (never paced), around the periphery of her very large office, doing her best to remain calm, cool, collected. It would not do any good for her image if she threw the fit she wanted to let loose at this very moment. Her two admins (because someone as important as she was, needed two), sat on pins and needles, waiting for their marching orders. It rankled, that both of them knew she'd been denied, fucking denied, an interview with Brian Kinney, AGAIN.

No one, fucking no one, ever denied her an interview. Famous people the world over, begged to come on her show, they fucking begged. And here she stood with a piece of paper in her hand with the words "no thank you" printed on it. The prick couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone and tell her himself! It had come from his fucking secretary, Cynthia. The bitch that guarded the gates to the inner sanctum like Cerberus, and couldn’t be troubled by mere mortals! Tasha had been after him, for her show, for more than a year, since he had bought the tracks, and more so after the ensuing legal battle with Antonicci Construction and Restoration.

Jesus. What a story that had been! A businessman, from Pittsburgh, takes down the biggest construction company in the Northeast. Every news outlet had been all over it like cockroaches. You could Google it, and come up with hours of video footage ranging from soundbites of lawyers on courthouse steps, to a floridly angry Donald Antonicci in a stunning display of immaturity and temper, railing about the "injustice" system and how it had failed him and his company. What you would not find, was a single word uttered by one Brian Kinney. There was video of him coming and going various court dates, of course, and some rather stupid newsperson, had tried to get a statement from him outside one of his clubs and was summarily "removed". There were press conferences in which a Kinnetic spokesperson would relay what was relevant and answer a few questions, but NOT ONE SINGLE WORD from the man himself about the lawsuit. He had just smiled into the camera as he left the final court date, holding the hand of Justin Taylor, got into the waiting town car, and left. Just like that. No declarations of justice served or righteous litanies, for the masses of newspeople to report. Just silence. It was a statement of its own and left everyone wondering, "who the fuck does he think he is?"

She was pulled out of her reverie by Marie's tapping foot. God, couldn’t the girl sit still for five minutes?

Tasha lowered herself into her desk chair and made a show of straightening her papers, just to agitate her some more, and glared at the offending foot until it stopped its infernal movement, before speaking.

"No one is to know about this." Steel gray eyes bored into each of them in turn until heads bowed under the weight. "Get Charlie on the phone, pronto, and have Delia come to my house in an hour. I have a party to attend."

Marie and Scott looked at each other in confusion, but hustled to do her bidding when she shouted "NOW!'

Outside, they sighed in relief, nervously chuckling as they headed off to take care of her demands.

*************************************************************************************

Marc James followed Brian and Emmett at a discreet distance as they left the expensive haberdashery with their costumes. Emmett was prattling and Brian was checking his phone again. Nothing out of the ordinary, but Marc could not shake the feeling that something was off. He watched the people around his charge, but found no fault, nothing to cause alarm. Normal.

What had changed since this morning? He could not put his finger on it, could not name it, a general unease he had learned to trust years ago in a Somali desert. Sweat slid down his spine in a frigid line as he glanced around again, thinking there was something he had missed. Normal.

He watched the two men for a minute, noticing Brian tense his stride as he read his phone, then relax again to match Emmett's pace. Shit, maybe the feeling was coming from Brian? Noah had said Everett had looked like a war survivor when he came to change shifts with him this morning. Maybe Kinney and Ryker had gotten into it last night and he was just picking up the vibes.

Shaking his head, he knew that wasn’t it. This was external. This was eyes on them, he knew it to his soul. Scanning around them again, he sent off a low priority message Ryker:

'Cold pie is okay, I think the oven just kicked on, might get warmer soon. Belly is rumbling.'

The reply was almost instantaneous:

'Mine too. The fan got dirty last night after scrambled eggs. Need a pack of smokes?'

Marc was about to confirm a negative when he heard the roar of a motorcycle approaching at top speed and looked up from his phone to see Brian do the same. There was thirty feet separating them. Marc knew he would not beat the rider to Brian and shouted out a warning. Realizing, as he ran, that Brian had read the situation and immediately side shoved Emmett out of the way. As the driver neared the space that he had been standing in, Brian pivoted to the side just as the hand of the driver nearest him snaked out and made contact just below his bent arm, then sped off down the sidewalk, and merged with the traffic down the street. FUCK! Less than ten seconds for the entire confrontation.

"You alright?" Marc had his phone dialing before he finished the question. Emmett was picking himself up, along with Brian's purchases, when he heard him say "Priority one, pie is hot, meet me at the kitchen" swearing under his breath as he hung up. Less than five minutes later, a black SUV pulled into the no parking lane and Marc indicated for them to get in as he scanned the crowd again.

Once he was in the front, and they were on their way back to Brian's home, Marc turned to face them in the backseat. Emmett was ashen and silent, staring out his window. Brian was holding his left hand inside of his coat on the right side. Marc asked the question with his eyes and Brian responded by opening his coat slightly and showing him the blood on his glove, then glanced Emmett's direction in an order not tell him. FUCK! He was going to have to wait for his answers.

*************************************************************************************

Daphne and Justin were sitting at the breakfast bar in her apartment, with her laptop between them, displaying both articles Justin was so pissed about.

"I still don’t see what the big deal is." She was frustrated and not taking any pains to hide it.

"He basically, put it out there that I'm like a kept man or something! How can you not see that!" Justin viciously ground out his cigarette, wanting Daphne to take his side. Commiserate with him over Brian's heavy handedness.

"Justin, are you sure this isn't about you?" She asked gently, placing a hand on his forearm.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t do this, he did." He was losing patience with her and her lack of support.

"Well, you've been complaining about him for months." Justin looked shocked. "Not big things, but little things that get on your nerves, ya know. Like before you left him for Ethan."

Justin glared at her for even bringing the fiddler's name into the conversation. It still hurt. Daphne knew it did, but pressed the issue, "You weren't satisfied with your relationship with Brian when it did not meet with the vision you had, of what it _should_ have been, in your head. I think," she hesitated, not sure if she could handle the outcome of her revelation, until Justin gave her "The Look". The one that said, "okay, you started it, now finish it".

She sighed, "I think, when you start to feel dissatisfied, or insecure, for whatever reason, you start scrutinizing Brian. I think you start looking for a reason to justify leaving, as opposed to just telling him what's wrong."

"Brian doesn’t think he does anything wrong, and he rarely talks about his feelings, and only talks about mine when I insist." Justin was incredulous, Daphne knew all of this, and she was trying to put it on him.

"No Justin, you're wrong." She wasn't even sure he would listen to her now, but as his friend she had had enough. Justin was not always capable of being objective when it came to Brian or himself. "Look, I know it's easier to look at the faults of others, but did you even try to talk to him about it? What did he say was his reason for doing it?"

Justin went still and looked away.

"Jesus, Justin! You didn’t even talk to him about it? You just left? Does he even know you're here, that you're safe?!" She was bordering on panic, knowing Brian might be too.

She got her answers, when his shoulders slumped, and he laid his crossed arms on the countertop, lowering his head onto them until she could no longer see his face.

*************************************************************************************

"Maybe we should give a press conference or something, you know, in front of the Foundation, have Brian speak.." Michael trailed off when he saw Ben shake his head.

"No, Michael. I think the best thing to do right now, is nothing. If we make a big deal out of it, she wins. She will be getting exactly what she wants, and I think I gave her enough already." He pulled Michael onto his lap and tried to sidetrack him by kissing his neck.

"But we have to do something." He was bordering on whining, Ben's least favorite thing about his husband. "Maybe if Brian speaks, he can say something that will put her in her place. He is _really_ good at that." Michael seemed oddly pleased as that thought ran through his head and Ben saw it.

"Just let it go, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. She got me ruffled, I didn’t make too much of an ass of myself, so let sleeping dogs lie." He went back to his husband's neck and slipped a hand to his crotch, trying to get him out of his head and otherwise occupied. Michael was nothing if not predictable, as he melted under Ben's ministrations, leaving Ben to mull over the fact that he had seemed more upset that Tasha had told the truth about Brian, and less upset that she had brought up the family. Deciding not to make an issue of it, he threw Michael over his shoulder and carried him to their bedroom, hopefully ending the discussion for good.

*************************************************************************************

Cynthia gave the dress hanging on the back of her bedroom door the stink eye, not because it was ugly, on the contrary. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen, and she seriously hoped it was a replica. Her displeasure was because Brian had refused to let her pick out her own costume or have any say in what he chose for her. She had been secretly hoping he would not send a bunny costume, or something equally asinine, as a joke. Now she wished he had. She would rather be seen in something completely ridiculous, than this gown. It was too much, and she knew what it meant to him.

He kept a print of Marilyn Monroe in his wallet, but not one of the photos you would expect, like a movie still or a public appearance. No, he carried one from her last sitting before she died, the session done at the Hotel Bel Air in 1962, photographed by Bert Stern for Vogue magazine. Even with the plethora of images to choose from, from that sitting, including some with her trademark moue, and nudes, he had not gone with the obvious. He chose one of her wearing the backless black dress, almost no makeup. She was seen from the side, looking into the camera, sitting down and leaning forward with her left hand to her face, covering part of her mouth. The back of her shoulder and upper spine exposed to view, stark against the black. She was not smiling into the camera or teasing it seductively, as she was often portrayed. Her lips were parted and the pressure of the hand she leaned into pulled her lower lip down by a fraction.

What caught the viewer, though, was her eyes, half- closed and staring into the soul, on the verge of tears, under brows starting to draw together. Her hair pulled back so there was nothing to detract from the tragedy in her expression. "This is who she really was." he had said nearly fifteen years ago.

Cynthia had seen the parallels then, the public façade and the private torment they shared. She had never thought it odd that he chose a woman, because he hadn’t. It had been the emotion that had captured him, that "something" that she had whispered to him through time, captured in the black and white print. The hint of what was to come, and the acceptance of fate.

Brian's words had been raspy with tenderness when he told her it should have been titled " Beautifully  Broken".

Opening the card that had come with the dress by messenger, she read:

"Something expensive for someone priceless."

SHIT!

Her eyes watered. Now she knew it was not a replica, and there would be no getting out of wearing it.

*************************************************************************************

Everett had already been on his way to Brian's when Marc had called after the incident, arriving only a couple of minutes after they did. When he stepped off the elevator, he could hear Emmett clear as day, "What the fuck is going on?" followed swiftly by a weak sounding "Is that blood?"

Everett entered the kitchen to find Brian, naked to the waist, leaning sideways over the island as a trail of blood ran down his side into his pants. His teeth were clenched and his face distorted as Marc tried to assess the damage.

Brian watched as Everett took charge of the situation. Shucking his coat and shirt, he asked Emmett for towels and supplies, sending Marc off to call Noah, to give him a heads-up. Lara stood braced against a counter on the other side of the island peeling a green apple. Everett made eye contact with her but her expression said nothing.

"Hop up." He said to Brian as he patted the marble top. "I need a better look at it to see if you need to go to the hospital."

Brian grunted as he did what he was told, biting out "No hospitals".

Everett opened his mouth to argue, and Brian repeated "No fucking hospitals, unless you think I'm gonna die".

Lara snickered drawing the eyes of both men. She sliced the apple, placing the wedges on a plate.

Emmett returned with, what looked like, the entire stock of first aid materials for the apartment and at least a dozen towels, setting/dropping them on the countertop where Brian laid on his side. The new position had the blood now streaking a line across his abdomen, gathering in his navel, and continuing down to the counter. Bile rose in Emmett's throat, causing him to take a few deep breaths until it was under control, and stepping back out of the way, but staying near in case he was needed.

Everett dug through the medical supplies setting out gauze, tape, scissors, antibiotic cream, until Lara spoke, "My bag is on the way".

He never said a word, but his eyes asked the question anyway, _is it that serious?_

She gave a single, succinct nod, and set the plate of apple slices in front of Brian. He had not missed the exchange, choosing not to comment on it…yet.

"Eat" she said, brooking no argument.

Brian ignored her, "Did I mention, it hurts like a motherfucker?"

She ignored him in turn, as she cleaned the trailing blood, working her way to the injury, then pressing a clean gauze pad to it firmly, causing his body to contract and his breathing to labor.

"Eat" she said again. "I'm not going to give you anything for the pain, until I know you have something in your stomach".

Brian conceded, realizing he was in no position to argue, and really wanting pain meds.

Marc came in, knowing he had to give a report, not surprised when Everett demanded one immediately.

He began, "just like I said boss, got a feeling we were being watched, sent the text, heard the bike, started running, too late, Mr. Kinney took the hit, bike was gone. Driver was wearing black, head to toe, tinted faceplate on the helmet. Maybe six two, buck fifty, first letter of the license plate was R. I never saw the weapon." He hung his head, chagrined about the last part.

Everett gave the man a curt nod, and the bodyguard left to wait for Noah. No one spoke as Lara continued to keep pressure on the wound, increasing it until Brian took another bite, and letting up when he did. It went on this way until Noah came in carrying an old fashioned medical bag, setting it near her elbow. Everett took over with the bandage as she rummaged through it, pulling out what she would need and moving to the sink to scrub her hands and forearms.

Donning a pair of heavy, purple, latex gloves, she mixed a concoction that looked suspiciously like silly putty then handed Emmett a prescription bottle. "Give him two of those and a full glass of water".

"I am right here you know" Brian was getting petulant, but took the pills Emmett offered.

"Shut up, I'm working." She said, not caring if it pissed him off.

Emmett was shocked that she would speak that way to Brian, when he was obviously injured, and Everett, seeing the protective mode slip onto Emmett's face, opted for distraction.

"Tell me, what happened? Brian?"

"Just like Marc said. It was fast, dirty, and efficient."

"You don’t remember anything specific?" Everett persisted.

Emmett piped in, "He pushed out of the way, I'd be road kill right now if he didn’t ".

Brian snickered, some of Emmett's outfits made him look like road kill anyway.

"Any detail, no matter how small, would help".

Lara worked the putty into the wound and smeared some around the opening in a thick sticky layer, then checked her watch and removed the gloves, replacing them with a new pair and tossing the old in the trash.

"Brian, you were the closest, any details you can add?" Everett asked as he moved to stand in front of him so he could see his face.

"Gee, let me see, uh I was stabbed, how about that." Brian had moved past petulant and was now surly.

"Did I mention it hurts like a motherfucker?" He snarled.

Everett needed anything to go on, in order to investigate. No way could this be random when he and Marc had both had gut-check moments. No fucking way.

"Brian, I need you to really think. Height, weight, skin color, a general feeling, anything. Especially since I know you don’t want to go to the cops." Brian's grunt let him know what he thought about cops, in general.

Everett saw the drugs start to kick in, when Brian's pupils reduced to pinpoints then expanded again, as he sighed, laying his head down on his arm.

"Aaahhh, that's better." Brian whispered to himself, face relaxing.

Lara checked her watch again, determining the putty had had time to set and started plucking at the edges until it was loose. "Fast or slow?" she asked Brian.

"Uh, fast." He clenched his abdomen and she pulled on the putty, removing it from the wound and tossed it in front of Everett who took it to the sink and washed the blood off it.

What came back was a perfect reproduction of the injury and it looked exactly like the tip of a knife. Everett turned it back and forth in his hand as he and Lara inspected it. It was roughly two inches long and two inches wide, tapering to a point at the tip.

"Guess, says maybe eight inch blade, serrated, hunting or military grade." She said matter- of-factly.

"Mmmm" Everett agreed.

"He's lucky, should have gutted him."

"I turned, had my phone in my hand, so my arm was bent." Brian showed them by crossing his forearm in front of his body. "Felt the jab, and my arm took most of the impact, stopping the thrust."

Lara nodded, clearly seeing it in her head. "Still, lucky." She cleaned the wound with antiseptic causing his muscles to contract again and he gave her an ugly look.

"Do you even _know_ how to be gentle, Doc?"

"I can take you to the hospital, where they will let you sit in the waiting room, bleeding all over yourself, until you pass out. Stitches or staples?"

Brian was starting to have difficulty following her words, so he just shrugged. His head was getting fuzzy, and his vision was narrowing. There was something he was going to say, had to tell Everett, and reached out a hand to get his attention, he said "White skin… Harley…dragon."

The three other occupants of the room breathed a sigh of relief when he slipped into unconsciousness for the second time in ten hours.

Lara opted for stitches given the proximity to his lowest rib, not wanting the metal to rub against the bone. The bleeding had stopped for the most part and he ended up with a dozen neat, even stitches just below the ribcage on his right side. They moved him to the bedroom and she took the time to check his vitals. His blood pressure was good, as was his temperature. Hooking her stethoscope in her ears, she listened to his abdomen, his lungs, and finally his heart. She lingered there, the steady thumping a reminder of how fragile life really was. She had meant it, when she had said he was lucky. A couple inches, either way, and any help might not have been enough. He could have ended up with a punctured lung, or serious damage to another organ. Worse yet, the attacker could have gone straight for the heart, or a vicious slice of the neck. Like she said…lucky.

Putting her stethoscope into her bag, she sat on the side of the bed, watching him sleep. He looked more boyish when he was relaxed, hardly the tough as nails businessman, and something tugged inside of her. It wasn’t sexual, though anyone with two eyes would say he was sexy, no, it was something else. Something that made her want to protect him, not just in the course of her job, but as a family member might. No, she thought to herself, it was more than that too. It was… almost… maternal. She chided herself for that sentiment, since she was not a mom, nor was she old enough to be his. Still, the feeling was there as she brushed the hair back from his face and she hesitated when he turned his cheek into her palm. She let her hand brush down the side of his neck, over his collarbone, and let it rest on his heart, feeling the beat against her skin.

His hand flexed near her thigh, and without thinking, she slipped her hand into his, intending to lay it over his belly. She stopped though when she felt the tiny ridges in his fingers. Using both of her hands to examine each of his fingers, she concluded there was a lot she did not know about him. What she had found was evidence of torture, every finger had been broken at some point in his life, and by her estimation, the breaks occurred at the same time. Some had not healed as well as they could have and she thought he would have arthritis in his future, if he didn’t already.

"That’s why you rub them, isn’t it." She said to no one.

His fingers gripped hers, and her eyes flew to his face, to see hazel depths staring back at her. She tried to extract her hand from his, but he would not let it go, and she huffed out a breath of frustration.

"Stop thinking so hard, Doc, you could wake the dead." He mocked.

"I didn’t mean to disturb, though you were hardly dead." She rolled her eyes.

He grinned, showing a dimple near his mouth, "Not even mostly dead?"

"Ah, but mostly dead is slightly alive, so you have nothing to fear about me going through your pockets for loose change." She smiled back at him, finding that they had at least one movie choice in common.

She sobered quickly though when he released her hand, and before she could second-guess herself asked, "Were you tortured?"

The good humor fled his face and left behind nothing to hint at his thoughts. She didn’t think he would answer her question, so she closed her bag and stood up.

"Not the way you think. It was more of beating. A lesson." His voice was thick.

She considered the multiple breaks she had felt, "Dedicated teacher" she said.

"Mmmm, you could say that." He turned on his side, away from her, and she walked to the door.

"Wake me in an hour, I need a shower before I get ready to go."

"Brian, you're on pain meds, and you've been stabbed. I don’t recommend you go anywhere but to sleep." She was frustrated again, knowing what his response would be.

"One hour, Doc. I'm the host, I have to be there."

*************************************************************************************

From the street, the building appeared the same as those around it. Brick, three story, upscale neighborhood, with regular foot traffic. On closer inspection, you might notice that some of the pedestrians spent as much time looking around them as ahead of them. Not the typical New York resident that walked a straight line with purpose and a destination in mind. Also, not tourists. No cameras, or maps, or smartphones in evidence for guidance. If you stayed long enough, you might even observe the same person more than once, as if they circled the block, for some reason.

Nick shook his head in disgust. He was going to have to talk to his boss about the security again. Why the man paid what he did without demanding perfection, Nick would never understand. The work was shoddy. Even when he approached the front of the house, he was not stopped, or checked for weapons. It didn’t matter to him that the security all knew him on sight, it was the principle. At this point if he wanted to kill his employer, it would be a piece of cake. Letting himself in, and locking the door behind him, he went straight to the study on the second floor. He rapped three times in quick succession, then entered the room.

The desk chair was facing away from him, keeping the occupant hidden from sight. The disembodied voice that emerged grated like sandpaper on cement. "You have something to report, Nicky?"

The use of the nickname he hated had the man bristling, but he forced his tone not to reflect his irritation. "Yes, sir, there is a new body on Kinney. Name of Marc, last name unknown at this time. Former military, per the usual. Six foot, one seventy-five, crew cut, blonde and brown. More importantly, I think we have another player. Guy on a motorcycle tried a slash and dash. I don’t think it was random, it was too clean."

"Professional?'

"Hard to tell, it was really fast, but somewhat sloppy. Kinney walked away."

"Beat the grass. See what shows. The man has cost me enough."

*************************************************************************************

Daphne had left for work, leaving Justin to prowl around her apartment working himself into a snit.

_She is so fucking wrong. Brian was the one that ended it with that stupid fucking retort. Brian was the one that didn’t bother to explain anything. Brian was the one that did not even try to stop me from leaving. As if that would ever happen. He never has before, all the other times I left. Why would I think this time would be different? Sure, the last two years have not had as much drama as the previous five, but Brian is still Brian. He would never stop anyone from leaving. It would be tantamount to saying he needed someone. Admitting that he loved me took five years, five fucking years.! Admitting need, would give him a heart attack._

_So Taylor, why did you think this time would be different?_

_I don’t know! I thought we had moved past that kind of behavior._

_Whatever gave you that idea?_

_Duh, because it hasn’t happened since we moved here._

_So what's different this time?_

_I don’t know, everything? We were happy, together, successful._

_Were you?_

_YES!_

_Was he?_

_Wait…what?_

_Was he happy? Together? Successful?_

_How can I answer that? I don’t live in his head._

_Why not? You've had the manual long enough. You know how this works. One or both of you start to feel confined, or scared, yes I said scared, there is a meltdown, and YOU leave, HE lets you. Par for course. What are you so upset about? You knew when you stormed into his conference room that you crossed a line, putting your private life on display, IN HIS OFFICE, in front of his employees. That’s why you couldn’t look at him. That’s why you avoided looking at him._

_Since you're here, talking to yourself, why don’t you admit that this isn’t about him?_

_What do you mean this isn’t about him, of course it's about him. He has to have everything his own way! Why couldn’t he just leave it alone? Leave me be, that critic was just an asshole._

_Leave you be? Like you let him be when he had cancer? Should he not have tried to help you, like you had tried to help him? He needed you then, though he would never admit it. He forced you away, so you wouldn’t see him sick and struggling. NEEDING._

_Sound familiar?_

Justin's internal conversation came to a screeching halt, a train crashing into the side of the unforgiving mountain that was Brianosophy 101. It lingered on one word and everything became crystal- clear.

He latched onto it, as the reason Brian had sent the response. Justin admitted that Brian knew him well enough to predict his reaction. His gut was telling him Brian had done it on purpose, to push him away, and he had fallen for it.

FUCKSHITMOTHERFUCKINGFUCKINGASSHOLEFUCKER!

*************************************************************************************

Ted arrived at the dock, early as usual. Boarding the luxury liner, he took some time to survey the set up for Kinnetik's fundraiser. Brian had made sure that every possible need, had been met. Entrees for specific diets, top shelf liquor, live entertainment, even the attendants (not waiters) were smartly dressed in tasteful costumes, specifically tailored to each of them, depicting the height of fashion from the roaring twenties. Dapper suits for the men and fringed flapper dresses for the ladies. Only Brian went so far as to make sure costumes were historically accurate. Ted was still bemused by the expense for one night, but hey, it was Brian.

He wandered through the Grand Ballroom and snagged a mini crab cake from the table, noshing on it as he checked place settings. He caught his reflection in a mirrored panel on the wall and took a minute to appraise his attire for the hundredth time since he purchased it. He was costumed as Charlie Chaplin, from the bowler hat on his head, down to the oversized shoes on his feet. He even had the quirky little moustache. It was a little itchy, but he thought he looked quite handsome, if he did say so himself.

It was already seven o'clock and some of the less affluent guests were beginning to arrive. It was going to be a fabulous party, and they didn’t want to miss a minute of it. The well-to-dos would not be here for a while yet,(they needed to make an entrance), so Ted did not feel a particular need to mingle with the current arrivals. He made a tour through the kitchen and spoke to the planner just to make sure everything was on track, noting even as he did so, that he needn’t have bothered. Brian left nothing to chance.

*************************************************************************************

Debbie, Carl, Michael, Ben, and Jennifer were all laughing and making snide comments about some of the costumes the guests were wearing as they watched the television. In a truly Kinney move, Brian had arranged for live media coverage of his fundraiser, challenging the viewers to contribute more than the guests that were invited. Commercials had been running for weeks, inciting a good-natured rivalry of the working class and the wealthy elite. It was brilliant marketing.

So here they sat, in Michael and Ben's living room, taking bets on the ugliest, prettiest, most outlandish, and most often seen costumes. They had been watching for almost an hour, and Brian had yet to show his face. He was late, to his own fundraiser.

Jennifer felt her unease, intensify with each tick of the clock. She knew Justin wasn’t there, Daphne had called her, but Brian's tardiness was not like him. This was Kinnetik, he would never allow it, and the reporters were starting to make comments on whether or not he would even show.

"There's another Rage!" Michael could barely contain his excitement, since Rage and JT seemed to be winning the most seen bet. Ben patted him on the shoulder and took the bowl of popcorn from Debbie when she passed it to him.

"It's like watching the Oscars!" Debbie squealed. Carl just smiled at her enthusiasm.

"Wait, I think this may be the man himself, pulling up now," the reporter was speaking to the fans at home. "Yes, it is Brian Kinney! Here at last to get the show under way." She smiled hugely into the camera and it panned to Brian getting out of a shiny limousine dressed to the nines in a top hat and tails, sporting spats on his shoes and a cane in his hand. He preened a bit, a big smile on his face for his audience, and waited while Emmett exited the limo and joined him wearing a standard tuxedo that was anything but. It was black, but the entire outfit shimmered with the tiniest particles of glitter, like diamond dust. He had darkened his lids with eyeshadow and used a sparkly dusting powder on his cheekbones and hair, giving him a manly-queen look that Brian could tolerate. (Only because Emmett had argued that old school magician assistants wore sequins, so glitter was the compromise.)

Once they were on board, the ship was underway in less than fifteen minutes. As they moved away from the pier, Brian stepped onto the stage and stood behind the mic until everyone was silent. It didn’t take long. He waved Emmett up on the stage with him, and tipped his hat to the audience then the cameras before replacing it on his head.

"Sorry I'm late folks, my assistant, Emmett here, was having some difficulty deciding if he should wear black or navy tonight, so after much fussing, and a few histrionics, I said "Emmett, why not wear both."

He passed his cane in front of Emmett. Starting at the top of his head, and as he passed over the fabric of his tuxedo, it changed from black to navy, drawing excited applause even before he was done.

Emmett, god love his flair for the dramatic, brought both hands to his mouth in exaggerated surprise, then blew kisses to the guests.

"Welcome everyone, to Kinnetik's second annual fundraiser for the homeless. As you are all aware, I challenged everyone that could see or read an advertisement to contribute by phone."

He waved his cane to the side of the stage and a large red covering was lifted by cables from the digital screen underneath.

"We will be keeping a running tab of the donations made tonight in two columns. The first, The working class. The second, all you clowns here." He made the insult seem like an ad libbed joke by pointing his cane at a trio of men dressed as clowns near the stage, and everyone laughed.

"Anyone on this ship, wanting to make a donation, can give it to my assistant here", he passed his cane in front of Emmett again and the tuxedo went back and forth between the black and navy in three-second cycles. "I think I made him easy enough to pick out in the crowd." The laughter continued and he finished with a simple "Enjoy the show".

*************************************************************************************

Jennifer excused herself to use the bathroom upstairs, and locked the door behind her as she dialed her phone. Justin answered on the fourth ring.

"Justin I know you're in town. Tell me what happened." She was hoping her gut was wrong but needed him to confirm it.

"Nothing, I mean, Brian and I got into an argument, and I left to cool off, but I'm going back tomorrow. I already booked a flight."

Jennifer could hear the uncertainty in his voice and something greasy slid around her insides.

"Mom, are you okay?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, call me when you land, okay?" She did not allow her voice to betray her.

"Sure, talk to you tomorrow."

She sat on the closed toilet debating, whether or not, to call the number Brian had given her for emergencies eighteen months ago. Her instincts were telling her something was amiss, and it was a few minutes before she understood what had set her off. When she did, she dialed the number immediately, spoke briefly, and went downstairs to make excuses and leave. She called Tucker from the car, telling him she needed to be out of town for a couple of days, and god bless the man, he never questioned her.

She barely kept the car at the speed limit as she drove to the airport. Thinking she might be overreacting, she played the video of Brian's arrival over and over in her head, and she kept coming to the same conclusion.

Brian had been leaning, almost imperceptibly on the cane. Every time she thought about it, that greasy slide let her know she was not imagining it.

Something was wrong. Brian was hurt.

Screw the speed limit. Her son was hurt.

*************************************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanting to see the print Brian carries can do so on youtube.  
> Marilyn Monroe - The Backless Black Dress Sitting 1962, by Bert Stern  
> It is a video montage published Nov, 25 2014 by Peter Sneyder  
> The image I write about is shown from 4:14-4:18  
> Also disclaimer, disclaimer, disclaimer.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

             Take care, lest an adventure is now offered you, which, if accepted, will plunge you in the deepest woe.

                J.M. Barrie

 

 

Brian mingled for as little time as he felt he could get away with. He carried an open bottle of Beam around with him and made liberal use of the contents. He had not taken pain meds before coming and was now wishing seven fiery hells on Everett and Lara for being right. He shouldn’t have come. Ted was doing wonders, meandering through the guests and doing his best Charlie Chaplin impersonations, and Brian had to admit, Ted was pretty good. Snorting a laugh to himself, he swigged from the bottle, and froze, as he spied Cynthia for the first time since boarding over two hours ago.

She was beautiful. All the swimming she had been doing was paying off. She was long and lean and subtly muscled.

He smiled, the first genuine smile of the night, and held a hand out. She took it, but did not return the smile.

"You are stunning." Brian said against her ear.

"I am, and you shouldn’t have." Tears began to well, "I know what it means to you." She touched the front of the dress reverently. Her gaze locked squarely on his face and his eyes were glistening as well.

He tried to play it off as a joke "Well it never fit me properly, it made my ass look big", his lips pulled in and he kissed her cheek, "I should have given it to you years ago". He whispered.

He straightened and tried not to lean on the cane, all business, "How are we?"

Cynthia was grateful to switch gears and did so without hesitation. "Every invitation was accepted, so we are at maximum guests. Not a single no-show."

Brian's brows shot up, "And?'

"So far working class is winning by about ten thousand dollars. It was a good call, by the way, getting more volunteers for the phones. The total as of fifteen minutes ago was almost a million dollars." She wore a big smirky grin, and Brian wrapped the arm holding the bottle around her shoulders. "That’s already double last year's donations. And you didn’t think I could pull it off."

"I didn’t say that, I said I didn’t think you would have the time to pull it off." She groused.

"Mmmm," He squeezed her briefly, "Go find that sexy stud of yours and have some fun."

"He is hardly mine, though I will admit he is sexy." She grinned "But, alas, he's doing rounds. He's checking the amphibious thingy, the safety boat."

"Ahh, well maybe you and Ted could give us all a little dance then.” He nudged her in the direction of the dance floor.

She rolled her eyes, took the bottle from him, and sauntered away to schmooze more money from the party-goers.

Brian tapped his lips with an index finger as he watched her bare, swimmer's back disappear into the crowd and flagged an attendant for another bottle.

*************************************************************************************

It had not been hard to find someone hired to work the party, and Viktor had no regrets about sneaking into the man's shitty apartment and slitting his throat. He had thought, though, that getting on board would have been trickier, even though he had come in the man's costume and bearing his identification wristband. A small thrill had gone through his body when, the band was scanned, and he walked through the metal detector with no problems.

Getting the lay of the land, while impersonating a waiter, was a bit more difficult, as he was expected to perform his duties, so he watched, and mimicked, and waited for the right moment to present itself. He watched while Kinney talked with a blonde in a black dress as he moved around serving drinks. He had all night, after all, the ship would not return to the pier until ten in the morning, and he was sure his mark would give him the opportunity he needed to fulfill his contract of murder.

He fixed a fake smile on his face, tugged at the ill-fitted suit jacket he wore, and wove his way through the throngs of dancers to fetch more champagne for his tray.

*************************************************************************************

Michael was in an ecstatic frenzy because he won the most seen costume contest. Rage and JT won, hands -down. They had counted well over a hundred of each among the 3000 guests, and Debbie was grumbling because she had picked the Queen/Royalty group, and was defeated soundly.

It was nearing midnight, the live concert from the cruise ship was wrapping up, and there was more than one yawn hidden behind a hand.

"Deb, why don’t you and Carl take the spare room?" Ben offered. "You said neither of you work tomorrow, so how 'bout you stay, and we'll have brunch in the morning."

"What a great idea, Ben, of course we'll stay, won't we Carl?" It really wasn't a question, and the look on Carl's face said that he knew it was useless to argue. Besides, he slept like the dead anyway. They said their goodnights and went upstairs.

Michael straddled Ben's lap the instant he heard the door close. "We're finally alone." He said between kisses, and Ben laughed softly as he gripped Michael's ass and moaned into his lips. Hands worked feverishly to shed pants and they were soon stroking each other's dicks and grinding pelvises. Ben flipped Michael underneath him on the couch and rolled on a condom one-handed while Michael stroked himself and wrapped his legs around Ben's sides. Michael moaned on the first thrust of entry and pulled his lover's head down for a forceful kiss, full of tongue, letting Ben know to hurry. Michael's hand pumped furiously on his own dick and Ben kept pace, slamming into Michel's ass until he felt his balls draw up and they ejaculated together, collapsing into a sticky heap. It was some time before their breathing returned to normal.

"Come to bed." Ben said as he stood and reached for his husband's hand.

"Nah, I think I'm gonna watch for a while, but you go ahead." Michael was still glowing over his win, and Ben figured he wanted to stay because it fed his ego to see his comic book characters on television.

"Okay, but don’t fall asleep on the couch, you know how uncomfortable it is."

*************************************************************************************

Lindsay could feel a panic attack coming as she sent off another text to Brian, asking him to call her. It was the fourth in six hours. Melanie had come home with the kids and they had let the children stay up long enough to watch Brian's opening speech, and both of them had squealed in delight when he had done his little magic act. Gus had been in complete awe. He knew his Dad was cool and everything, but a _magician?_ That just took the cake. He announced then and there, that he was going to be a magician too, and he was going to be just as good as his Dad as he waved an umbrella like Brian had waved his cane. Jenny laughed and tugged on Gus' hand until they were dancing around the living room. Both of them were exceedingly vocal when their Moms told them it was time for bed. It had been a meltdown to end all meltdowns. Crying, kicking, screaming, and eventually promises of magic shows had the kids finally in their own beds and Lindsay reaching for the paper bag.

Melanie watched her sit at the table, breathing into the lunch sack. Lindsay was texting at the same time, and Melanie assumed she was trying to get a hold of Brian again by the frustrated growl that Lindsay reserved just for him.

She smirked to herself, _so he got the message. Silent treatment it is._ Of course, Lindsay would eventually win the battle, and he would talk to her, but even if she did, Brian already had his answer.

*************************************************************************************

Everett was at the launch in the rear bowels of the ship, checking on the RHIB. It was stationed at the ready, with a three- man team of driver, security, and rescue diver. The inflatable boat was a no frills military grade vehicle, as was the Mark V special operations craft that was currently doing patrol around the cruise liner, keeping curious vessels at bay. The Coast Guard had taken stations further away, as they had their own duties, but were close enough to be a presence if necessary.

Everett used his radio to check in with his teams, and give the all clear for a change in rotation. He had decided on two hours shifts to keep everyone fresh and on their toes. He didn’t think there would be any major issues, but after Brian's dustup and the trillions of dollars in net worth among the guests, he did not want to take any chances. Noah had said that overkill could have been his middle name.

_Better safe than sorry, besides Marc is being just as paranoid as I am. Something is in the wind._

The Mark V pulled close and Everett oversaw the personnel change, sending the off duty men to grab some food and down time and reiterating the patrol pattern he wanted for the men climbing aboard the heavily armed fast attack boat. All of them were dedicated and seasoned professionals, and Everett was glad he could count on them to do their jobs to the best of their abilities.

Having accomplished what he came for, he set off for the ballroom, to try to get in a couple of dances with Cynthia. He hoped this would all go off without a hitch, and tomorrow he could spend some more time looking into the man on the motorcycle.

*************************************************************************************

"Teddy! You look absolutely adorable!" Emmett cooed while pinching Ted's cheek affectionately.

"Emmett! It's good to see you, I wasn’t sure I would get a chance to return your calls. What brings you here tonight?" Ted hugged him as he chattered.

"Oh, you know, Brian needed someone to fill in," He tapered off, and his eyes clouded.

"Yeah, I heard about Justin, but you know how they are, they'll work it out." Ted smiled and looped his arm through Emmett's, steering him to the buffet tables. "Here have some crab cakes, they are delicious."

Emmett pulled his head back, avoiding the food Ted was trying to feed him and held up a hand, "No thanks, Teddy, I have to get these donations counted and into the safe before my pockets can't hold anymore, then start all over again." He gave Ted a soft smile.

Ted looked a little hurt that Emmett seemed to be brushing him off, "Come on, Em, I can find someone else to do that. You and I can catch up, dance, party, just like the old days. Then we'll go back to my stateroom and stay up all night gabbing about how hideous some of these costumes are."

Emmett gave a half roll of his eyes and tilted his head. "Honey, I have seen second rate drag queens look better than some of these people." He shuddered in mock dismay.

"That's the spirit, so how bout it?" Ted put more food on his plate as they wandered down the length of the table.

"Sorry, I promised Brian, and I don’t want to disappoint him tonight." Emmett said.

"Suit yourself, I guess I will just have to find someone else. Maybe I'll grab one of the hundred or so JTs around and pretend I'm Brian for the rest of the night." Ted laughed at his own joke, and missed the stiffness of his friend's posture.

"Be careful what you wish for Teddy, it is not always what it seems on the surface."

*************************************************************************************

Tasha made circuitous rounds through the ballroom, lingering near the rich and famous having quiet conversations, so the recording device she had hidden in a medallion on her helmet could see and hear it all. She was especially careful to avoid the news cameras or anyone that might recognize her, though that was a long shot.

She had brow beat a younger newscaster out of her invitation, promising to help the poor woman's career, though never intending to do so. Charlie had fixed her up in a Roman Hoplite warrior costume and Delia had given her face a full treatment. She was androgenous. Her feminine features, now masked with makeup, and her hair covered in a very short dark wig under a helmet with a large plume and a nose plate that concealed part of her face. The breastplate for the costume was metal as was the helmet allowing her to hide the button camera and still make it past the security upon arrival. So far, no one paid her any attention, and she had managed to pick up a few interesting tidbits of conversation as she wandered around. Tidbits that she might be able to work into one of her shows, or even use to humiliate a future guest. Still, the one person she wanted to get on camera, had made himself scarce, and she came to the conclusion that she would have to be more aggressive in seeking him out. It was nearing one in the morning, but what she knew of Brian Kinney said he would just be getting into full swing at this time of the night, so she kept her eyes peeled for a glimpse of the elusive man, while a self-satisfied warmth filled her.

*************************************************************************************

Brian hated affairs like this. He knew why they were necessary, but he hated being a part of them. Public display, especially for television, left a sour taste in his mouth and a bitter burning in his gut. He felt like he was in a fish bowl, his every move analyzed, and it made his skin crawl. He could feel the grasping eyes of the viewers and the selfish glee of reporters as they asked their repetitive and inane questions, hoping to one up each other for an exclusive interview. He had been doing his best to avoid all manner of media for most of the party so far, and was congratulating himself on a job well done, with a bottle of Johnny Walker Gold Reserve, as he walked around the ship looking for a quiet place to park his ass in the fresh air. He was not ready to go to his room yet, probably never would since Justin wasn’t there, but the ballroom and dining room were too stifling. Too loud, too colorful, too many JTs if he was honest with himself. He would catch one out of the corner of his eye and for a split second he would think Justin had come back, and the hurt would start all over again.

He had watched, briefly, as Everett had pulled Cynthia into a slow dance, and was grateful to see that she seemed to really like the man. Ryker was obviously besotted, a condition Brian could well and truly understand, and hoped for a moment, that they would work out. Cynthia needed someone strong and resilient, but not hard or demanding because of it. He hoped she recognized her good fortune before it was too late.

Brian found some empty lounge chairs on the main deck and lowered himself into one with a hiss of pain when his stitches protested. He leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankle, drinking straight from the bottle. He held it up to the feeble light and glared at it, remembering that he had been drinking this same liquor on his aborted attempt at scarfing, and the night of Justin's prom.

Fuck, he couldn’t even get wasted on a twelve hundred dollar bottle without thinking of Justin. The kid had woven his way through almost every memory Brian had for the last seven years. If it was not a memory of them together, it was a memory of how terrible it was without him. His gut churned with old feelings of anger and regret. His brain fuzzed with current feelings of helplessness and lack of control. It was overwhelming, the floods of emotion he could barely contain anymore. He found himself struggling on a sometimes minute to minute basis, for balance. His emotional equilibrium was teetering almost to the tipping point, and he wondered if it was even worth trying to maintain anymore. He was scared that he would become so unbalanced that he said or did something that would hurt someone he cared about. He was scared that if he had an outburst, he would say something that he would forever regret. He was scared that once that happened, he would never find himself again, and if he did, no one would want him. He was, for the second time in his adult life, scared.

*************************************************************************************

Justin got out of the bed for the fourth time since he talked to his mother. He knew something was wrong and he hoped it was not serious, because the more he laid in bed thinking about it the more sure he became that Brian's cancer had returned. That had been the last time that Brian had been so overt in tossing him out.

Granted, this time, he had been more subtle about it, but it had the fingerprints of Brian Kinney all over it. It made sense, that Brian would want to deal with it alone, it was his first instinct after all, and Justin certainly understood the reasoning. However, they were partners, and there was no way he was going to let the man he loved go through that again all by himself. He didn’t last time, and no matter the prognosis, was not going to let him this time.

_Jesus, what if it's really bad? What if there is nothing they can do? Is that why he pushed me away? So I wouldn't see him waste away, and…die?_

_What if he does…die? How will I get over that? He is everything to me. Everything._

He sat on the bed again and let the tears fall, certain he had read the situation correctly, and at a complete loss with the grief he was already feeling.

*************************************************************************************

Caryn stood by the door of the plane as a frazzled blonde woman made her way up the steps clutching her purse to her side. Once she was inside, she closed and sealed the door and let the pilot know they were free to take off.

Returning to the passenger area, Caryn noted that the woman sat primly on the edge of a seat, with her knees pressed together and her face a stony mask.

"My name is Caryn. Is there anything I can get for you once we take off?"

The blonde simply shook her head in the negative as the plane accelerated down the runway and lifted into the air. For a second, Caryn thought her passenger might toss her cookies at the sudden change in elevation, but gave her points for getting herself under control. Taking a moment to observe the prim cowl necked sweater and twill pants, Caryn pegged her as one of the country club set and wondered where on earth her boss would have come into contact with such a person.

Jennifer did her best to sit still and finally decided to have a drink, hoping to calm her nerves.

"May I have a drink please?" she requested of the attendant.

"I have not restocked yet, so all I have is water, Beam, and Walker." Caryn offered as she reached for the water.

"I, uh, fuck it, I'll take the Beam." Jennifer chuckled at the surprised look on Caryn's face. "Brian would be proud of me." She offered, by way of explanation, with a self-deprecating toss of her head.

Caryn handed her a short glass, raising her eyebrows. "You know Mr. Kinney?"

Jennifer sipped then rolled the glass between her palms, "Yes, as a matter of fact, he's my… uhm… son in law. I'm Jennifer Taylor, Justin's Mom."

Caryn mentally kicked herself for not seeing the resemblance sooner, and nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Let me know if I can get you anything else." She made to stand and Jennifer clasped her hand.

"I'm sorry, but I didn’t make arrangements for a rental when we land, is there any way to take care of that now?"

Caryn could feel the tinge of desperation in the hand on hers and hear it in the older woman's voice. Whatever prompted the woman to get on a plane in the middle of the night, with no luggage or coat, must be serious, so she simply nodded and went to make a few phone calls.

*************************************************************************************

Everett had just slipped his fingertips under the edge of fabric on Cynthia's back as he pulled her closer to him and waltzed her around the room. They flowed well together and looked nowhere but each other's eyes as the dance floor cleared and they were left alone. A world unto themselves, as they stepped and turned and twirled to the music. The attraction between them obvious to anyone with eyes, and the news cameras followed every move they made, broadcasting it to the masses at home. It wasn’t until the music ended that either of them realized they had made quite a show, so they went with it, and bowed to the audience, under a round of applause.

The music once again turned upbeat, so Everett took her hand and pulled her outside, hoping the night air would cool his heated skin. Technically, he was on duty, but once outside he grasped her to him and set his mouth to hers in a searing display of wantonness.

She did not hesitate in returning the kiss. He tasted like fire, and need, and she had no desire to resist. His hand splayed in the small of her back sent shivers to her private parts and she opened her mouth to taste more of him. He groaned and stumbled back against the bulkhead and she followed, tugging at his belt, and shoving her hand down the front of his pants and grasping his already hard cock. She moaned into his mouth as she pressed herself to him and stroked him to an even more impressive erection. Everett turned his head as her lips made their way to his neck and he was glad there was no one around to see how desperate she made him. He had never in his life been oblivious to the things around him, but now, as he gripped the back of her neck and she stroked him even faster, their breaths turning to fog between them, his world narrowed, to her. Just her, and the fathomless depths of her eyes that hid so much. Her need to be in control of this encounter, the need to know that she could push him beyond reason and that he would let her. A glimpse, of how demanding she would be, and a double dare to accept her anyway. She grabbed his jaw with her free hand and pulled his lips back to hers. With his heart racing in his chest, he let himself go.

*************************************************************************************

Marc scanned the water around the Mark V and the liner, looking for any threat to the ship. He tuned out the chatter over the comms as he lowered the binoculars. All was clear and the last update from Everett confirmed it twenty minutes ago. They were running patrol in a counterclockwise circle around the cruise ship at fifteen knots. That made each circuit about thirty minutes. He had the command over three heavily armed men, the driver, and two reliefs. It should have made him comfortable, but like Everett, he felt himself waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He just hoped it wouldn’t be tonight. The guests themselves were a ripe plum for the picking. Any one of them would command a high ransom and a whole boat full of them would be very tempting for even the shyest of criminals. He had to put his faith in the two hundred personnel that he and Everett had hand picked for tonight's shindig. They were all seasoned veterans and knew their jobs, but every time Marc thought about that afternoon, how fast it had gone down, the hairs rose on his arms, and he scanned the waters again.

*************************************************************************************

Emmett was updating the digital display of donations, proud of himself and Brian as the total neared two million dollars. He was determined to make sure that it exceeded that amount before turning the job of collections over to someone Ted appointed. The crowd had thinned as some of the older guests retired to their rooms for the night. He took some time to give the staff appraising looks and thought he could not have planned the party better himself. For all of Brian's faults, he had superb taste and knowledge when it came to impressing guests.

Emmett was chatting up another possible donor when one of the waiters caught his attention. He looked okay, but something did not sit right. He nodded when he felt it was appropriate but had stopped listening to the group he was in, so he made his excuses when the he saw the waiter leave the dining room, and followed him.

He immediately lost him in the crowd of the kitchen as everyone in there was doing their best to keep up with the food demand and the dishes it inevitably created. He tried peering over heads, even going so far as to stand on a stool, and just barely managed to catch sight of a dark head, and unshaven face, disappear through the far door.

*************************************************************************************

Noah kept watch over Brian as he dozed in a lounge chair on the main deck with a bottle in the crook of his arm. He had been that way for over an hour. He had to admit, the man was hot when conscious, but there was something about him when he slept that made even a straight guy like himself wonder what it would be like to fuck him. Eight years in special forces brings you into contact with a lot of men, and where there are a lot of men, there are a lot of stories of sexual conquest. He had plenty of his own to share, though admittedly none with men. However, watching Brian sleep, made him wonder if maybe he was missing out. He laid there, completely relaxed, with his tie undone and his tails tossed over the arm of the lounger, shirt unbuttoned to the center of his chest….

"You wouldn’t be the first straight guy I fucked because he was curious."

Noah almost jumped he was so startled. Brian had not even opened his eyes or changed his breathing.

"Fucking A man, you scared the shit out of me!" Noah laughed as he rubbed a hand over his pounding heart.

"As luck would have it, I'm free right now…" He swigged and ran a finger down his chest, giving Noah a look that said he would make it worth his wile.

Noah almost choked, his mouth went so dry he could not form a reply, so was exceedingly relieved when he saw Everett and Cynthia come towards them.

"Maybe later." Brian muttered.

Noah moved to stand by Everett as Cynthia sat on the side of the lounger with Brian and he huffed out a breath because he knew she came to retrieve him for some more glad-handing. He watched as Noah moved off and Everett retreated to a discreet distance.

"You just cock blocked me." Brian said as he panted his way to a sitting position next to her.

"Well, I'm sure you'll make up for it later. Right now, you need to come in and do some rounds. We just passed two million and the crowd is getting restless. They haven’t seen you for hours and the reporters are running out of things to say." She patted his leg in sympathy.

Brian ran a hand over his face and settled it over his mouth as he tucked his head and nodded. Just the thought of talking into another microphone set off acid in his stomach and a clamoring in his brain. He hated it. He couldn’t control it. He had to clench his teeth to keep from unleashing an unholy tirade on the one person that didn’t deserve it and he hated himself for having those thoughts in the first place and the guilt that came with it.

"Give me a minute," every word was a fight for control.

She watched him struggle, wishing she could make it better, squeezed his thigh in comfort and kissed the side of his head. "Five minutes. I will get you out in five minutes, I promise. That will be the last time, and you can hide. Okay?"

He laid his hand over hers, nodding, and took a deep breath as she walked away.

*************************************************************************************

Jennifer thanked Caryn for her help as she nearly ran down the steps to the waiting car and jumped in, demanding to be taken to Brian. The car started moving as the driver spoke, "I can't do that Ms. Taylor. The Crown Princess is in open water and won't return until tomorrow morning."

Jennifer looked into chocolate eyes in the rearview mirror and put on her best mother bear persona.

"Listen to me, are you listening?" she asked haughtily. Lara grinned, she knew that line, and nodded.

"I understand that you have a job to do, and you are limited by that. So I will refrain from holding you responsible, if and only if, you get me on the phone with someone that can get me on that ship tonight. Do I make myself clear?"

Lara did not want this to escalate into hysterics, so did her best to keep her tone even, "Ma'am, you seem to be a little upset, and though I can appreciate that, nothing short of a helicopter is going to get you on board tonight".

Jennifer closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them, Lara realized she would not win this argument without trying. "I don’t care if it takes an entire panzer division, you will find me someone that can get me on that boat tonight, or so help me, there will be hell to pay!"

"Okay, okay, I will see what I can do." Lara offered as she pulled out her phone.

Jennifer, seeing something was being done, settled back into her seat and fidgeted with the strap on her purse, while her mind travelled to Brian.

*************************************************************************************

Brian used the cane to stand and wobbled a few seconds before finding himself steady enough to walk. Each step was a study in focus and concentration as the anxiety built in his chest and a thick mucus filled his throat.

There was no way he would be able to talk inside, with all those people, and stifling stimuli. Just the thought had him leaning over the railing, puking. His hands shook violently and he dropped the cane, not caring when it rolled a few feet away. The retching continued for several minutes, even though his stomach was empty, and he leaned there, draped like a limp rag, over the railing, praying for someone to put him out of his misery.

Then he felt it. A presence he assumed was Cynthia come to fetch him, and he knew before the thought was finished that it was not her. He felt the malevolence in waves. He turned to confront it, just in time to miss the cane being swung at his head.

Instead, it landed with enough force on the upper part of his left arm, he heard a sickening crack, and felt the bone break. His attacker raised the cane again and Brian knew he would not be able to fend it off, so opted for offense. Holding his limp left arm in his right, he ducked his head and launched into the midsection of the man wielding the cane.

They hit the deck in a heap, with Brian on top, and he got a good look at the man. He was dressed as an attendant, but the shoulders didn’t fit right, and Brian was hit with the illogical understanding that this man was an impostor. He had dark, close cut hair and brown eyes. He also needed a shave.

Not being able to use his arm left him nearly defenseless, but when his attacker attempted to raise himself, Brian head butted him, and had the satisfaction of hearing his head hit the wood beneath them. Brian rose and backed off, intending to call for help, and saw Cynthia step out of the corridor looking for him, behind the stranger.

He threw up his right arm quickly, to stop and silence her, and the movement sent pain searing across his ribs as he felt his stitches rip.

The man saw him pale and blood soak his shirt, took that moment to grab him around the middle with one arm and hook his other behind his knee and heft him towards the railing.

Cynthia made to shout and Brian shook his head. He did not want her injured, and drawing attention to herself would certainly accomplish that. He saw her anger, and her indecision. The world passed in slow motion as he gave her a smile that said it was okay to let him go, and he was oddly happy when she ducked back into the corridor.

Then he was weightless. Looking up into the face of the bad guy as it retreated further and further away. Just like buttered bread always lands butter side down, Brian hit the water broken arm first, and he felt the old injury to his collarbone snap once more. He tried kicking his legs, seemed to be making progress, until the pain took over.

*************************************************************************************

Everett had been watching the doorway Cynthia had used so he immediately saw her ashen face when she reappeared without Brian. Knowing something was wrong, he ran for the door, grabbing Emmett as he passed and started barking into the radio. Cynthia had instantly disappeared again, and as they hit the night air outside it was to see her leaning over the rail.

He called for the patrol boat and the RHIB to respond to their location and watched as Cynthia struggled to undo the clasp at the back of her waist. He was responding to Marc on the other end of the comms, when Emmett pulled out a pocketknife and cut the band of fabric at her waist. She wasted no time stripping off the dress and climbing, in nothing but her panties, onto the railing. Then she was gone.

Everett was speechless, unable to form any words, until a couple seconds passed and his training kicked in. Emmett was leaning over the railing trying to see what was going on in the water below as Everett hastily amended his orders and went running for the boat launch. He called the Coast Guard on his way, and prayed to whatever deity watched over fools, that this would not turn out to be the clusterfuck it appeared to be.

*************************************************************************************

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ended up really long, so I split it.

Chapter 6

 

                To die will be an awfully big adventure.

                J.M. Barrie

 

 

His teeth were chattering and he had lost all feeling on his left side. Still, he kicked his legs to bring his head above the water just long enough to gasp another breath before sinking below the surface again. His lungs burned with the effort and he knew he could not last much longer. He tried pulling his legs up and waving his good arm in the water, in an effort to float, when he managed more air, but the drag of the useless arm kept pulling him under. It seemed a Herculean effort just to get oxygen, the roaring in his ears deafening, until he opened his mouth too soon, and the ill-timed salty wave seared its way into his lungs.

*************************************************************************************

"PORT SIDE, AFT, GO GO GO, ENROUTE YOUR LOCATION, MEDIC ALERT, STANDBY, TEAM ONE, BE ADVISED, PRIORITY ONE AND TWO IN THE WATER" Everett was shouting into his radio as he navigated the labyrinthine passageways of the cruise ship. "TEAM THREE, BE ON LOOKOUT FOR PERPETRATOR, DO NOT ALERT CIVILIANS, REPEAT, DO NOT ALERT CIVILIANS!"

Everett glanced at his watch, _Four minutes, FUCKFUCKFUCK!_

*************************************************************************************

Marc held onto the rail, as his team sped towards the back of the cruise ship in the Mark V. The driver opened the throttle to the maximum forty-five knots, as they closed on the rear. Pure bad luck had had them near the starboard fore of the ship on their rounds, in effect, the furthest possible point, when the call had come. Curving around the back of the liner, going so fast they barely skimmed the surface of the water, Marc saw Everett standing on the boat launch with the radio to his mouth, and the RHIB some fifty yards ahead, streaking to the last known location, as he got confirmation that both Brian and Cynthia were overboard.

FUCKFUCKFUCK!

*************************************************************************************

Emmett scooped up Cynthia's dress and shoes and hurried into the ballroom looking for anyone from the security staff. He was wending his way through guests when Ted drew alongside him for a chat and a toast, a big satisfied smile on his face. Emmett shucked him off and continued his original path until Ted pulled his arm, insisting to know what was going on. Emmett leaned in and quickly gave him the rundown, causing Ted to blanch white and nearly faint. Emmett kept him upright, herding him to a seat, and left him there as security began to become a noticeable presence among the guests, and he took off to find Noah. Neither man aware that the entire interlude had been avidly observed and recorded.

Tasha was miffed that she had been unable to get close enough to record their conversation before it was over, but The Bitch's dress and two scared fags had been enough to pique her interest. The tall one moved off in a hurry, so she retreated to the sidelines once more as the security became ever more watchful.

*************************************************************************************

Cynthia hit the water in a neat, precise dive, arching her back as soon as she hit the ocean, and using the momentum to speed forward in the direction she had last seen Brian. Coming to the surface, she barely took the time to drag in a breath as she powered through the water towards his bobbing head.

Seven strokes, breathe, look.

Seven strokes, breathe, look.

Seven strokes, breathe, look.

She saw the wave crash over his head.

FUCKFUCKFUCKINGSONOFABITCH!

*************************************************************************************

His teeth were not chattering anymore, nor was there any pain. The numbing cold gave way to blessed warmth.

_Dying is not so bad after all._

_It is the ultimate drama queen moment._

_There is no one here to watch, my farewell performance._

_Are we surprised?_

_Not really._

_I'm alone. In all things… alone._

_Any illusion to the contrary over the years is just that, an illusion._

_Gus…_

_Will he miss me? Grieve for me? Remember me?_

_Mikey…_

_He has Ben to help him._

_Cynthia…_

_She's gonna be so pissed._

_Justin…._

_Too unbearable to think about…._

_It really is too bad, I had big plans. I was going to finally do something right._

Actual thoughts gave way to images, skating across the landscape of his mind. Moments not seized, opportunities left to wither. Dreams on the cusp of realization and a legacy unfulfilled.

An angel, a golden nimbus of hair, and pale alabaster skin glowing in the backdrop of black. Fierce, blue eyes ablaze, hand outstretched, come to retrieve him in death.

_Finally…. I have been waiting for so long…_

_*************************************************************************************_

Cynthia could see his white shirt, the only indication of where he was under the water, a beacon in the darkness. As she neared, she could see his face, he seemed peaceful. She reached out for him, his eyes drifted closed.

She was too late.

Not willing to give him up yet, she hooked her arm under his chin and kicked for the surface.

*************************************************************************************

The RHIB and the Mark V arrived at the same time and the rescue divers were overboard before either vehicle stopped moving. Everett was on the comms, demanding an update as four heads bobbed to the surface.

"Standby, recovery in progress"..

Marc waved to have the divers bring Brian and Cynthia to him, as his boat was more able to accommodate them. Brian was handed up first and Marc noted the pallor of his skin and blue lips. Two of his team began working on him, immediately trying to clear his airway and flush water from his lungs.

Cynthia came up next, shaking uncontrollably, all but naked, her lips blue as well and a glazed non-seeing look in her eyes. She was pulled to the side and seated near the bulwark, wrapped in a thermal mylar safety blanket to help against the hypothermia she was no doubt suffering.

Marc activated his radio, "Priority two, stable".

Everett was glad Cynthia would be okay, and the fear gripping his chest eased a fraction, but he still didn’t have all the answers he needed, "Cut the shit Marc! How's Kinney?"

Marc did not want to answer while he stood near Cynthia, as she was trying to look around people to see Brian, so he moved off. He could still see everything, but afforded a modicum of privacy for his next words as CPR was initiated.

"Not breathing, they're working on him now. Standby".

He gave the driver instructions to return to port at top speed, then got a hold of the Coast Guard to call in a favor for a Medivac chopper to pick them up.

*************************************************************************************

Lara affixed her earpiece when the double beep had signaled on her phone. A glance in the rearview mirror said her passenger was losing patience, but holding it together. She had heard all she needed to hear as she changed course and headed in the direction of the hospital.

*************************************************************************************

Brian and Cynthia were loaded into the chopper, their care given to the technicians. Marc let Everett know that Brian was intubated, and they would be headed to Mercy Hospital. That done, he made to climb into the cabin, but was stopped by a hand in the center of his chest.

"No more room, sir. You will have to find another way."

Marc had no time for bullshit, "Then tell the co-pilot to move, I will take his seat."

All eyes turned in his direction. Something on his face must have said that he would not be deterred, because after a few seconds of heavy silence, he was allowed on board and told to sit near the rear, mashed into a corner between a medical cabinet and the wall. They were in the air before he was fully seated, and the lurch of take-off had his elbow banged into the corner of the cabinet. Swearing under his breath, he scrubbed a hand over his face, and prayed they were not too late.

*************************************************************************************

Everett had to take what he could get and hope for the best. For now there was nothing else he could do for Brian. Except find the bastard that had tossed him overboard. He oversaw the docking of the RHIB, got situation reports from his teams, left new orders, then made his way back to the main deck to begin the headhunt for the perpetrator. He could not have gone far, it was a ship after all. Unless he had fled overboard himself, he would be found.

Everett made no promises for what would happen to the man when they did.

*************************************************************************************

 

Jennifer was mangling her purse strap again, when she noticed that they were moving away from the docks. She had been to Manhattan enough to know that much, and leaned forward in her seat to demand information.

Lara saw the move, and spoke before the situation got out of hand.

"There has been an incident, Ms. Taylor, and I have redirected us to the hospital, as I assumed that is where you would wish to be in these circumstances."

Jennifer opened her mouth and Lara cut in again, "I don’t have all the details, as yet. But it is my understanding that Mr. Kinney fell overboard." She of course, knew more than that, but kept it to herself, since she had no interest in dealing with what ifs. Jennifer already looked like she was holding on by sheer will.

*************************************************************************************

_It's warm._

_I didn’t expect that._

_I can't move my body._

_Do I have a body here? Wherever here is?_

_I can't see anything. Everything is gray._

_Maybe it's just the backs of my eyelids. Do I even have eyes here?_

_If I don’t have eyes, how am I gonna see all the beautiful men?_

_If I don’t have hands, how am I gonna touch them, feel them?_

_Worse, if I don’t have a body, how are they gonna touch me? Feel me?_

_Shit, what if I don’t have a dick anymore? Fuck, I was really proud of it too._

_I must be in hell. Where else would I be if I don’t have a dick?_

_If heaven is all the wonderful things you loved in your life, then hell must be the opposite._

_Ergo, if I love fleshly things in life, my punishment is to have none in hell._

_Makes sense. Don’t have to like it, but it makes crazy sense._

_Wouldn’t Mom just love that! No homo activities in hell._

_She would probably come here herself and argue with Satan, that her son wasn’t suffering enough for his transgressions and needed to be duly punished for his crimes._

_Well, what she saw as crimes, anyway._

_Of course, I committed real crimes, in my younger days, but none without a good reason._

_Maybe the reason was only good to me, but there you have it._

_Stolen goods, stolen hearts. I am guilty of both and so much more._

_Proof positive that love, eventually, makes criminals of us all._

_One way or another._

_*************************************************************************************_

Emmett was again trying to convince Everett that he did not see Brian go over the rail or anyone near him when they had gone outside.

"I'm telling you, the only one that might have seen anything is Cynthia. Did you call her?"

Everett raked a hand through his hair in desperation. "She was fucking naked, Emmett, her cell is on board somewhere, and I can't get a hold of Marc."

Emmett slumped in defeat.

They were in the cruise ship's security office, waiting for Noah to pull any surveillance video that might give them a clue to Brian's attacker. At this point, they could not even be sure he was attacked, since no one on board saw anything, but Everett was pretty sure Brian had not decided to go for a swim. Emmett was pacing, hands on hips, and was only half watching the monitors, when he caught something out of place.

"Wait, go back!" he insisted as he leaned closer.

Noah backed the feed a full minute and hit play. It was the ballroom, before the incident, and Emmett saw himself follow an attendant into the kitchen.

"That's him! I know it is!" Noah paused the feed, and enlarged the section Emmett had his finger on.

Everett squinted his eyes, "Tell me why".

"Look, his jacket doesn’t fit, it's too small in the shoulders. It's also too short. And he needs a shave." He crowed, as if that was all the proof they needed.

Everett wasn’t convinced. "So?"

"SOOO, Brian had everyone fitted. Don’t you know anything about him? If he had seen this guy, he would not have been allowed to serve. Brian is nothing, if not a perfectionist." His gap-toothed grin was triumphant.

Everett had to concede that point, but was not fully ready to convict the man, without further proof. He told Noah to find all video that the unshaven man was in, and forward it to him. Indicating that Emmett should follow him, he left to refine orders for a quiet search of the ship.

He hoped they could keep the media from finding out.

*************************************************************************************

Marc followed both gurneys as they were wheeled from the roof to the ICU, Cynthia shouting the whole way that she didn’t need any fucking doctor. Marc was not entirely sure if she was really pissed, or it was a symptom of her shock.

They came to a set of doors, Brian was wheeled through, and Cynthia was veered to a room on the side. Marc took one glance at her for confirmation. When she screeched "Go!" at him, he took off after the medical team.

Cynthia was immediately surrounded by nurses trying to get her vitals. She thought it admirable that she tolerated it as long as she did. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long enough.

Jumping off the gurney, planting one hand on her hip, and pointing a finger at the doctor that chose that minute to enter, she gave her deadliest stare.

"You will get me a clean pair of scrubs, so I don’t have to stand around naked, and you will give me access to a phone right now."

"Ma'am, I'm Doctor Gibbs. If you will please sit so I can.."

"I will not sit, until you get the clothes and the phone, or you are going to have a mostly naked woman roaming your hospital looking for one." She seethed.

Dr. Gibbs refrained from telling her it would not be the first time, when he saw how determined she was. She was not at all embarrassed with her nudity, nor the fact that her hair hung in dripping tendrils. Maybe, he thought, he should tackle her from a different angle.

"Moira," he asked a nurse," would you please find," he glanced at the chart, "Cynthia some scrubs."

The nurse eyed him suspiciously, but left anyway.

"Cynthia, please have a seat." The doctor gestured to the bed.

"Listen to me." Her voice carrying every bit of disdain she could muster. "Are you listening?"

Dr. Gibbs decided to humor her for the moment, nodded.

"I, aside from being naked, am perfectly fine. What you could not know, is how I came to be this way."

The doctor pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose, "Actually, it's noted in your chart."

She sneered at him, and said "Good. Then you know I was brought in with a man that was dying. Brian Kinney. If you don’t know that name, let me enlighten you. Brian Kinney started, owns, and runs Kinnetik Corp. Just this year it surpassed four billion dollars in profits alone, and he is on a first name basis with some of the most powerful people in this country. I am his business partner and friend, and if you don’t get your ass in there and do everything you can to bring him back, I can guarantee the full might and every last dollar of the company will be spent making sure you and this hospital regret ever hearing his name."

By this time she was chest to chest with the man. It did not matter that she barely reached his shoulder, only that he was either suitably impressed or scared. He cleared his throat once, thought better of saying anything more, then left to follow her orders.

Once he was gone, she sat on the bed and let the nurses treat her as Moira came back with scrubs and a cell phone.

*************************************************************************************

Jennifer went straight to the ICU and pushed through the doors as if she had a right to be there.

"Ma'am, you can't be back here." One of the nurses stood from behind the big circular arrangement of desks and counters.

"My name is Jennifer Taylor, you should have received a fax of Mr. Kinney's medical power of attorney. I am his designee, and I would like an update on his condition and the steps taken so far, before I go to the waiting room." Jennifer wore her upbringing like armor.

"Just a minute please". The nurse moved away to quietly whisper into the phone and leaf through some paperwork.

Jennifer looked around her, noting the various alcoves for patients that had no more privacy than a few curtains. The subdued atmosphere and chemical smells reminded her, in vivid living color, of the endless days at the hospital waiting to see if Justin would live. The remembered fear, the aching heartbreak, as he fought to be whole again. And he had, as best he could, though she knew some wounds never healed, and probably weren’t meant to. _That's not love, that's sacrifice._ She remembered him saying those words to her later, though he would probably never understand their significance. He certainly hadn’t then. She sighed, standing taller as the nurse returned with paperwork.

"Once I see your identification, I will give you an update, then I will need you to fill out some forms for me".

Jennifer nodded, producing her driver's license, and refusing to touch the papers until the nurse spoke.

"Mr. Kinney has suffered a broken arm and clavicle, he was not breathing on his own and was intubated before arrival. Shortly after being taken into the OR his heart stopped. We have gotten it going again, but he is still on the breathing machine. He has not regained consciousness since the accident that we are aware of. I will let you know if there is anything else".

Her wan smile as she moved off grated on Jennifer's nerves. It was not her fault of course, but there it was. She reached over the counter, grabbed a pen, and began to fill in the blanks that composed a man's life.

*************************************************************************************

He heard the obnoxious, beeping of a machine turn to a steady flat drone, as clinical voices receded to the background until they could, no longer, be heard. The new voices, when they came, were only in his mind.

_"Spare the rod, spoil the child. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Spare the rod, spoil the child."_

_"The Angel of Death always gets his due. There is no hiding from him, boy. You can fight him all you like, but he will come for you. He never forgets."_

_"Fucking had to shoot yer mouth off again, didn’t ya! You'll never learn! Ya don’t let yer mouth write checks, yer ass can't cash, stupid fucker! Whatta ya gotta say fer yerself this time?"_

_"Have I taught ya nothing? Don’t ever threaten, unless ya have the means to follow through. It's not a bluffing man's game. Yer either holding the cards, or yer not."_

_"Got more balls than sense…"_

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

                Boy, why are you crying?

                J.M. Barrie

 

If Cynthia was surprised to see Jennifer, she didn’t show it. The older woman looked up from her seat in the waiting room to see Cynthia come in wearing pink scrubs with cartoon horses printed on them. Her hair was a tangled mess and she had mascara in dried drips under her eyes. She was also on a cell phone giving the person on the other end a rundown of events as she had seen them.

Jennifer listened intently. She figured, as Brian's assistant, Cynthia had quite a bit of juggling to do, and since there had been no new information to share about Brian since she sat down half an hour ago, she went back to fiddling with her purse strap.

Marc had recognized Jennifer, and after introducing himself, took to pacing the depressing waiting room. For the moment they were, the three of them, alone, each of them in their own private hell, together for the sake of one man.

*************************************************************************************

Tasha had been roaming the public areas of the ship in an effort to catch The Dick, as she privately referred to Brian, in an unguarded moment. So far she was having no luck. She had managed to see an absurd number of security people talking into radios in some weird pseudo military jargon as they rushed around, peering into every nook and cranny.

Her intuition screamed that something was afoot, but she was unable to pinpoint exactly what it was. She held her door key, and pretended to be searching for her room, whenever she neared them, hoping to catch a stray word, or gesture that would give her a clue. She kept up the ruse, undetected, for fifty-three minutes. Then it happened.

She was passing through a small group of men in black jeans and navy blue polo shirts,(AKA The Dick's security), when she heard it. One of the radios squawked.

"…no update as yet. Priority One status is unknown."

She continued down the passageway and ducked into a service closet, with her heart beating a mile a minute.

_Is someone missing? Hurt?_

_Who the hell is Priority One?_

_Plenty of extremely wealthy and powerful people aboard. Which one would be given that status?_

_The Senator?_

_One of the movie stars?_

She took some deep breaths to center herself.

_Think, think,_

_Think it through._

_No single person on the ship has enough sway over another to warrant that description._

_Come at it from a different angle._

_Who would The Dick's security team label…?_

_AAHHHH! There you have it!_

_Something has happened to HIM!_

_But, What?_

_*************************************************************************************_

Everett hung up the phone and hooked it on his belt. He was grateful for whatever providence had brought Jennifer Taylor to New York in time to be at the hospital to make the critical decisions, per Brian's wishes. Another fraction of fear eased from his chest. He was confident for now, that between her, Cynthia, and Marc, nothing would happen to Brian under their care. He hoped.

Now he had to find the unshaven man.

His teams were doing due diligence in the search. In point-of -fact, they were doing admirably, since he had added the restriction of doing the search covertly. The last thing anyone wanted was for the civilians to catch wind of what was going on. If that happened their collective, proverbial goose was cooked, and the world would know about it in… well… a New York minute.

*************************************************************************************

He was flying. Weaving around the towering skyscrapers of Gayopolis. He could see his reflection in the window glass if he got close enough.

_Why, the fuck, am I wearing something with a big tear across the chest?_

_Oh, right, RAGE._

_Fucking Michael._

_I'm not some fucking superhero._

Something he did not quite catch, whispered in the back of his mind, unacknowledged, as he watched the streets below. It was not easy to stay aloof.

Drugs, were bought and sold, by government officials.

People, including children, were trafficked.

Guns, on the streets, in schools, and churches.

Fat politicians, stealing the clothes from the homeless and laughing about it over state dinners.

The populace, starving, while the land of plenty withered and died.

Bombs, in places of celebration.

Each one a stabbing pain in the heart and a driving needle in the brain.

_I'M NOT A FUCKING SUPERHERO! I AM ONLY ONE MAN!_

The whisper came again. The one that said " _Not yet…but you could be."_

The memory of laughing blue eyes challenging him.

A vice gripped his heart, sending him plummeting to the ground.

An inaudible snicker followed by an undeniable truth…" _You could be Dr. Evil."_

*************************************************************************************

Everett was standing just inside the door of Brian's stateroom. The only light in the room came from a floor lamp situated in front of his prisoner, shining into the man's face. He was tied to a straight-backed chair in the center of the floor. Content that the imposter was going nowhere fast, he stepped into the hall.

"Report"

Noah stood taller "Sir, the subject was apprehended in a maintenance room, as you see him".

Everett raised a brow, but said nothing.

Noah colored slightly, and pressed on. "He did not resist. The clothing and ID bracelet are missing. I have a man going through the employee manifest and discreetly rescanning bracelets in an effort to narrow down which one he used, since we did not have cameras at the dockside security checkpoint."

Everett nodded his approval, and even though he already knew the answer, asked "If he didn’t resist, how'd he get the lip and the shiner?"

Noah, not missing a beat, said "He, uhm, tripped, on the way up here. Must've bumped my knee on the way down."

Noah followed his boss into the room, silently watching as he strode directly to the prisoner and planted his fist in the man's face. His head snapped back sharply from the blow and when it returned upright, he spat out two teeth, a mix of blood and saliva dripping down his chin onto his bare chest and lap.

He gave his captors a humorless grin, wetly saying with a thick accent, "I teel ju nothing." as he spat more blood.

"Ah, Ruskie, eh?" Everett's eyes lit with a foul gleam. "Nice ink." He pointed to the dragon tattoo on his naked left pectoral. "I recognize it. Blue scales, New York. Rampant pose, wetworks. Both eyes visible, assassin. Claws exposed on every limb, you are very…experienced. "

"Den ju know eez useless to ghet me to talk." He sneered.

Everett said nothing as he stripped off his jacket, followed by his tie, shirt, and undershirt. He stepped close, so he was in the sphere of light from the lamp and raised his left arm. He bared his own tattoo, just below his armpit for the prisoner to see, and was rewarded by a flicker of recognition on the man's bloody face.

"You know what this means, eh?"

A jerk of the head in affirmation, "John 8:32, I can read."

Everett put his arm down, braced his hands on the armrests, and leaned into the man's face until he could smell his sweat. "You know what it means. Enlighten my friend over there."

For a full minute, he said nothing, as Everett stared him down, refusing to move.

Finally, he spoke, flippant and belligerent, "Eez Bible verse. Sez 'And ye shall know de truth, and de truth shall set ju free.'"

Everett did not move, "And tell my good friend, what that means…"

"I am not theologian…"

Everett head-butted him in a move so swift, Noah had not even seen it, only the resulting broken nose and gushing blood. His boss was as still as stone, invading the imposter's space.

The captive gargled a breath, "Eez good, dat move, have to remember eet," he angled his head minutely in Noah's direction.

"Eet means, he was elite eenterrogator. Part of veery small force, maybe four to seex men at any time in world. Used by U.S. when dey not want to admeet complicity for certain, eh, questionable methods for eentelligence gathering."

Everett stared holes in the prisoner's eye sockets, when he stopped speaking. "The three, branded, scar lines. Tell him."

"First scar, train weeth MI6/SIS. Second scar, train weeth Israeli Mossad. Third scar, marks heem as teacher. All, together, mark heem as Inquisitor."

Everett gave him a savage smile, picked up his clothing, and exited, Noah hot on his heels.

*************************************************************************************

The three of them stood as the doctor came into the ICU waiting room.

"Ms. Taylor, Mr. Kinney has been moved to a recovery room in the ICU. We have managed to get him off the breather, but we have elected to keep him under very light sedation, given his other injuries. He was hypothermic when he arrived, complicated by those injuries and a blood alcohol level that should have downed an elephant. Frankly, I have no idea how we got his heart going again, except to say that divine intervention or freakishly good luck had to play a major role.

We are going to keep him under observation for a few days, to make sure. We also re-stitched the wound on his side, and have him on a course of antibiotics to ward off infection. I will take you to see him, for a few minutes, then I suggest you go home and get some rest."

Jennifer simply nodded and followed him back to the curtained nook where Brian lay sleeping. The doctor checked the machines, made notes in his chart, and quietly left.

Brian's arm and shoulder were in some sort of soft-cast contraption that had the limb sticking out away from his torso. His breathing seemed normal, but his color was far paler than she had ever seen it, even in deep winter and dark shadows marked the skin of his lids and under his closed lashes. The awful blue-grey of the hospital gown and the hideous yellow-gold of the blanket did nothing but make his complexion seem even worse. The image, aided not at all by the wires attached to his chest and the IVs in his hand, was one she was sure he would want no one to see.

She moved close enough to lean in and brush the hair back from his forehead before she whispered in his ear, "You look like hammered shit Brian and your blanket is harvest gold. If you don’t want to end up in one of Debbie's animal prints, you need to wake up and tell me what color you want."

She knew, of course, that he would not wake up for some time, but she had never seen him back away from a challenge before and knew he wouldn’t be caught dead in that get up. She kissed his temple, and went back to the waiting room to make some arrangements.

*************************************************************************************

Ted paced his cabin as Emmett lay back across the bed with his arm thrown over his face. Poor Ted still could not get his brain to wrap around the possibilities.

"Ted, please stop pacing and sit down." Emmett was tired beyond words. He had slept fitfully the night he and Brian went to the club, and last night, not at all.

"Tell me again, what happened, Emmett, and leave nothing out."

Emmett was frustrated that Ted seemed to think that repeating every little detail would change the outcome, or at least make it understandable, when there was no understanding to be had. He loved Ted, but his friend was a logical person, and logic had nothing to do with the current circumstances.

Emmett sat up, blinking at the weak, fall sunlight that signaled another morning.

"Look Ted, all I know is, Brian was stabbed yesterday, was overboard last night, was rescued by the little naked mermaid, and is now in ICU. Really, that's it."

Ted was not mollified and before he could launch into a Ted Tirade, Emmett held up his hands in a gesture for peace.

"Please, Ted, you are in a much better position to get information if you want it. Why don’t you go look for that Everett guy, wouldn’t he know the answers to your questions?"

"I tried that, but got nothing else." Ted made it sound like the whole ship was conspiring to keep him uninformed.

"Teddy, Honey, you really need to chill. Maybe no one knows anything else yet." Emmett's head started to pound. As Ted sat next to him on the bed, he laid back again, hoping for silence as he yawned, knowing he was going to be disappointed.

*************************************************************************************

Everett was more than happy to hand over the prisoner and the investigation to the police and port authorities after all the guests disembarked. It was nearing noon and he really needed to get to the hospital. He was hoping Brian was awake and could answer some of the questions he knew the police would have. For now, the boys in blue were willing to put off talking to him, while they went over the evidence Everett had supplied along with his employee roster, the guest list, passenger manifest, and other data that such a large affair produced. He knew that would only be the beginning, but for now it would do.

Making a last sweep, his personnel departed with all of their equipment, and a new assignment to reach out to their various contacts in a search for some bit of information that would shed some light on the sudden violent attacks. Something had to have triggered them. Granted, Brian was…well …Brian. He had certainly pissed off plenty of people, most likely powerful people.

_But how does that precipitate premeditated murder?_

*************************************************************************************

Brian was moved to a private room, spurring Jennifer to take the opportunity to get coffee. She loaded the cups of dark roast onto a tray and helped herself to handfuls of sugar and creamer, balancing the tray in one hand while pushing the button on the elevator for the eighth floor with the other. The doctor had said the sedatives should be wearing off soon and he could have whatever fluids he wanted.

Jennifer left the elevator, walking down the hall to the waiting room where Cynthia was still handling business on the phone. She silently handed her a cup and let her take what she needed from the tray before heading to Brian's room. Marc sat on a chair outside the door, in a protective position, and nodded his thanks when offered a cup. Picking one from the tray he stood and opened the door, then let it drift closed behind her.

She set the tray on the rolling table, poured two creamers into her cup, and six sugars into Brian's. Then she sat in the metal and plastic chair next to his bed and waited for him to wake up. Pulling out her phone, she debated whether, or not, to call anyone, then decided she should let Brian have the choice, so she put it away again. She hated hospitals. She had hated them even before Justin had been hurt. Her father had lingered with pancreatic cancer for seven months, and the daily trips had been exhausting. Watching him deteriorate was terrible. She could no longer think about him without picturing the way he had looked just before he died, hollow-cheeked and frail, in perpetual pain. That was the worst part. Any memory, even good ones, ended with that visual and she would not wish it on anyone.

She gave up her musings when Brian moaned and clenched his hand into a fist. She leaned closer, uncurling his fingers and rubbing her palm over his clammy one. He trembled, sweat beaded his lip, and his legs jerked under the blanket. She sat on the side of the bed near his hip, and brought his hand to his stomach while she felt his forehead. He was not feverish, but he was now sweating profusely. He mumbled and turned his head into her hand. He was quiet for a few moments, but his breathing became increasingly more desperate. Short, gasping reaches for air, until his whole body was quaking. Jennifer thought he might be having a seizure and pushed the button for the nurse as his high keening wail filled the room, broken at the end by guttural sobs as he tried to curl into himself. He jerked violently, dislodging her from the bed as Marc came into the room to investigate the sound.

"Night terrors" was all the information Jennifer offered as she resumed her place on the bed and did her best to soothe him. Marc went to the other side and mimicked her gentle rubbing, but was only making it worse as Brian shied away from his touch, and all but wrapped himself, lying on his side, around Jennifer. Marc moved away without saying anything, and Brian relaxed a little bit as Jennifer guided his head and shoulders to her lap and raked her fingers through his hair. After a few minutes, the sobbing subsided to silent weeping before stopping altogether. He shivered, his teeth chattering, and Jennifer rubbed his back in long passes, from top to bottom, knowing it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

A nurse walked in then, a look of reproach on her face, at the state her patient was in, but Jennifer did not give her a chance to say anything.

"Where were you ten minutes ago? Fuck off!"

The nurse left in a huff, and Marc raised an eyebrow when Jennifer looked his way to see if he was going to call her on her rudeness.

They were both surprised to hear a very weak chuckle and "Good Girl" from Brian. Jennifer glanced down at his tear streaked face to find his eyes half-open and looking at her. She patted his hair one more time and gave him her brave smile. His eyes were gentle, letting her know he knew how she felt. She blinked in understanding.

"Thanks…Mom." He moved, grunting at the effort, until properly situated in the bed. Marc left to make calls, and as he closed the door, heard Brian clear his throat and ask, "Do I smell coffee?"

*************************************************************************************

Everett drove through midday traffic with skills that would shame most racecar drivers, spearing through openings between cars that should not be big enough for the SUV, with the deftness of a surgeon and a couple layers of paint to spare. Ted regretted his choice of the front seat immediately and decided he did not like the idea of knowing his death was imminent as he gripped the handle on the doorframe in silent desperation. Emmett teased him about it unmercifully and told Everett it was better than any roller coaster he had ever ridden.

They screeched to a stop in the drop off lane of the hospital where Everett tossed the keys to one of his men waiting on the sidewalk and continued straight to the bank of elevators inside. Ted and Emmett had to hustle to keep up with the older man.

"Sheesh, Everett, you work out?" Emmett said, mildly winded, and a panting Ted shot him a reproachful look for being so forward.

"Some" Everett replied, hitting the button for the eighth floor, facing away from them, as he stood between them and the doors.

Ted and Emmett being…Ted and Emmett, took the opportunity to check out his ass, making orgasmic faces at each other, and pretending to fan themselves with their hands dramatically.

"Would you like me to turn around so you can check out the front too?" Everett asked drolly.

Ted cleared his throat and ducked his head in embarrassment but Emmett gave his back a gamine smile, "Dare ya…"

The doors opened and Everett turned to face them, walking backwards out of the elevator, with his arms out to his sides, giving them a few seconds of the view, before righting himself and heading for Brian's room. Emmett pretended to faint. Leaning on Ted, he joked, "Be still my heart…" causing Ted to, playfully, slap his cheeks to "revive" him. They were still swatting at each other when Everett stopped at Brian's door. He turned and pierced them with "The Look". Perfected by parents the world over, and guaranteed to covey the level of shit you would be in, if you continued in your stupidity. When he was sure they had collected their dignity, he led them in.

Brian was about to greet him until he noticed who followed. "Did you _have_ to bring the Tweedles with you?" His voice edged near a whine.

Everett gave him an insouciant flash of teeth as he extended his hand. "Good to know your humor didn’t drown".

Brian shook it in a firm grip, "You get him?"

Everett nodded, glancing in Jennifer's direction, indicating that Brian might need privacy for this conversation.

"She can stay, and I assume those two already know what you're going to tell me anyway. I am going to assume, that everyone in this room, knows to keep their mouths shut. Cynthia should probably hear it though, so you might want to round her up." Brian did not want to wait, but she would kill him, slowly, if she thought she was out of the loop.

Everett shook his head, "She's pulling information for the cops right now. I will get her up to speed when I'm done here."

Marc came in, carrying a very large duffle bag. He shared a wordless communication with Everett, setting the bag on the floor nearest Jennifer, before resuming his post outside the door.

"I think Cynthia and I have given the cops enough data to keep them busy for the rest of today, and if luck holds, tomorrow as well. Last update I gave the lead investigator was that you were still in ICU. You might, fingers crossed, get a couple of days before they come here to question you. I gave them copies of all the video footage we found, and our prisoner. I got more than a few sidelong looks, since the guy was naked and bleeding, but hey, I didn’t tell him to ditch his clothes."

Ted did not think Brian was as well as he let on, because he didn’t offer a single, snide remark over the naked bit. Everett continued as Jennifer silently unpacked the duffle bag.

"His type of tattoo is like a business card or resume'. Long story short, he's a professional hitman. I'm not going to get into that here and now, but I will give you a copy of my written statement that I am doing for the police, as well as those of my men. You will get all the nitty gritty from that and I will answer any questions you have or clarify if you need it."

Brian had no expression on his face as he rubbed his thumb over his index finger and Everett continued.

"I never really bought that the stabbing was random, though it could have been, but now I'm pretty damn sure they are connected. So far we have managed to keep a lid on all of this, a small miracle in our favor, but at some point it is gonna come out. Maybe not the attempted murder part, but someone here is either going to recognize you or your name, and spill the beans. Because whatever information leaks, whether truth or lies, is going to end up on the news, my advice to you, would be to come up with a statement, and head it off before it gets out of hand. Control the content. I can help you with that if you like, write it up, and bring it to you for your approval."

Brian nodded "I agree. I also think, once the cops have their statement from me, I should get out of town for a while." Three pairs of civilian eyes locked onto him in surprise. Brian was not one to run away scared. "A little vacation…to recuperate", he qualified, gesturing to his injured arm, as he stared pointedly at Everett. Jennifer, Emmett, and Ted all relaxed, exactly as Brian had intended, but Everett heard the meaning loud and clear. Brian was thinking that his leaving would draw the danger with him, leaving the people he cared about in relative safety. Everett nodded his agreement.

Brian squared his shoulders, as much as the awkward cast would allow, and turned his focus to Ted.

"I want you to work closely with Cynthia and Everett to give the cops whatever they need from Kinnetik's end of things. They will both be in and out of the office, so you will hold down the fort. Any direct calls for Cynthia will go to Jacobson, and I trust you to field the rest. I imagine she will want to reschedule some things while I am here but you need to be at the office every day so the employees see there is still someone in charge, and do their jobs. I know it seems like babysitting, but the show must go on. Can you do that Theodore?"

Ted swelled with self-importance. "Of course, Bri, whatever you say".

Brian tilted his head in the direction of the door and just before Ted reached it, he said "Do not, tell anyone back home about this."

"But, Michael…"

"NO ONE, Theodore. Understand? You do remember what happens if you fuck up?"

Ted nodded vigorously as he left.

Brian was scratching his neck and chest, making Jennifer smile to herself. She carried some things to the bathroom, happy she had made the right call. She set his expensive bottles and tubes of toiletries on the shelf, in the shower stall, and walked out of the bathroom as a doctor came to check on him.

He took a look around the room and seemed a little perturbed to find an audience, but Jennifer gave him credit for not being stupid enough to say anything. The doctor watched Brian's heart monitor for a few minutes then listened to his lungs, making sure they were clear of fluid before adjusting his IV lines.

"How's the pain, Mr. Kinney?" He asked, without looking up from the chart he was writing in.

"Feels like a Wookie ripped my arm off and beat me over the head with it. How do you think it feels?" Brian was losing patience quickly.

"I'm not surprised. The soft cast is going to mean a slightly higher level of pain in the arm as it heals since it does not completely immobilize like a hard cast would. However, we did not risk the hard cast, fearing the weight would put too much strain on the clavicle and cause complications, hence the contraption you are currently sporting. You will definitely need physical therapy, but we will talk about that before you are released. I am going to stop the heavy painkillers you are getting through the IV, and switch to something a little less potent you can take orally, since you are awake and seem to be okay, considering the circumstances. You can't have the pills for about another hour and a half, but I will put the order in now, so you don't have to ask for them later."

"Gee, thanks Doc." Brian said.

The doctor asked him if he had any questions, but Brian just stared him down until he gave up and left. As soon as the door closed, Brian snarled and did his best to throw the covers off his legs onto the floor. Emmett, sensing a queen-out of epic proportions, hastily picked them up, and stood with his mouth gaping as Brian clawed at the skin on his legs with his good hand until they were beet red. Jennifer carried thick toweling to the bathroom, turned on the taps in the stall to heat the room, then went to stand by the bed where Brian was trying to reach a difficult spot on his back.

"What are you two staring at?" She crossed her arms and gave Emmett and Everett a look guaranteed to make them feel five years old. "He needs a shower. He has dried salt water and whatever pollutants they dump in the ocean here, all over him. He smells like a fish market, no offense Brian, and if he is going to be moving around, he needs to do it before the heavy-duty painkillers wear off entirely."

Emmett sensed he was not going to like the answer to his question but asked it anyway. "What are we supposed to do about it?"

Brian snarled at him, Everett rolled his eyes, and Jennifer gave him a look usually reserved for the village idiot.

*************************************************************************************

Justin's covert bodyguard, Geri, watched from her car in the pick-up lane at the airport, as Justin got in the car parked half a dozen spaces ahead of her. She called Everett to let him know the shit was gonna hit the fan before pulling into traffic and following.

Her next call was to get one of Justin's regular security detail members, hopefully Noah as they were close to the same age, to head to the apartment and do his best to explain what was going on, before Justin heard it from someone else, and assumed the worst.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

                Aye, that is a kiss. A powerful thing.

                J.M. Barrie

 

Jennifer could hear Brian complaining even with the bathroom door closed. She could clearly imagine the difficulties the three of them were having, trying to get him clean while he tried to maintain his dignity. Every few seconds, she could hear Brian's voice rise in frustration or Emmett's turn sugary in effort to placate him.

She smiled to herself as she moved around the room. This was Brian's worst-case scenario, needing someone to help him. Which was why she had not waited for him to ask, because she knew he wouldn’t, no matter how miserable he was. So, she just took care of it herself, and enlisted Emmett and Everett to do the job for her.

She ditched the ugly blanket and dirty linens, then made the bed with brand new, washed, Egyptian cotton sheets in black, and topped it with a navy spread. She wanted him to be as comfortable as possible while she said her peace.

There was a small ruckus in the bathroom, followed by an aggravated growl, just before Brian stumbled from the bathroom and lurched for the bed. Jennifer gripped him around his waist, to keep him from falling, realizing too late, he was completely naked and dripping.

Not, that she hadn’t seen it all before. Somehow, in this setting, his arm and shoulder bound, made it seem like a violation…of him. Settling him on the side of the bed, she went to the duffle and pulled out his bathrobe, keeping her eyes on the unruly mop of brown hair, she helped him shrug into it before he got comfortable in the bed.

Everett and Emmett stared silently from the bathroom door as she kissed his forehead and he squeezed her hand. The tenderness of the moment held them in place as their soaked clothes dripped all over the floor. It surprised them both when Jennifer retrieved a bottle of very expensive lotion, sat down next to Brian, and told them both to get lost without batting an eye in their direction.

After they were gone, she quickly fixed the mess in the bathroom, and decided to approach the subject directly. Brian didn’t care for prevarication, so she would give him none. She sat on the bed again and poured the lotion in her hand then rubbed it into the skin of his good arm, as far up as she could reach, massaging the muscles in the process. Brian closed his eyes, sighing in contentment, leaning back into the new pillows. Jennifer drew breath to speak as Brian turned his head to look out the window, and cut her off.

"I didn’t send him away because I don’t care about him." His words were quiet, almost a whisper. Jennifer held her tongue, knowing Brian rarely talked about his feelings, and truly wanting to hear what he was willing to share with her. She finished with his arm, and pulling back the covers, started taking care of his right leg.

"I sent him away…because" he cleared his throat, "because I'm sick."

Jennifer's eyes shot to his face, assuming the worst. He gave her a self-deprecating look and tapped a finger to his temple. "Here." The admission was jagged, sharp, inflicting a pain all its own.

She bowed her head and focused on his leg, trying to convey understanding, but unwilling to give it a voice that would have him closing up again.

He turned back to the window, because looking at her while he talked, made it too much to handle. He focused on her hands and the curious, but supportive feelings she had no way to hide from him, wrapping them around himself and hoping for the best.

"I have never been professionally diagnosed, I fucking hate shrinks, but… with the availability of the internet, and some research books, I am fairly confident that I have neither moderate, nor severe PTSD, but somewhere in between. I have, very long, stretches of time, without incident, then debilitating nightmares, as you have seen. I don’t always remember them, and sometimes I can be extremely violent. I'm sure you already figured that out. Probably before I did, given Justin's history."

She nodded, moving to the other side of the bed to work on his other leg.

"My father was an abusive drunk. My mother was a frigid bitch." There was no emotion anywhere in that statement.

She paused briefly in her massage, as something pinched her heart, resuming quickly, hoping he didn’t notice her hesitation.

"It's all right. No need to worry yourself about it. It's been over for a long time." He faced her then, though she was focused on his leg and did not notice.

"I removed myself, from their _care_. But not without…damage". She saw him tap his temple again from the corner of her eye. "I have, I mean _had_ , ways of handling the worst aspects of the disease. But…it has steadily gotten worse. Beyond my means to…I can't…" He swallowed, unable to finish.

Jennifer covered his legs and poured a little bit more lotion in her hands then rubbed them together as she sat at his hip. She reached out with both hands, for his face, stopping midway when he flinched, then proceeding very slowly when he got himself under control, and met her gaze.

Slowly, she ran her thumbs over his brow, smoothing the lines, then using her fingertips to rub his temples. A tear slipped from his lashes, but she pretended not to see. Her palms gently caressed his cheeks as his eyes closed and the tears fell in earnest. Silent tears of a person afraid to admit to needing comfort. It broke her heart in a way nothing else could have.

Jennifer understood so much about him in that moment. Why he did the things he did, and why it had been so hard for him to allow Justin a part in his life. He knew it would come to this and didn’t want Justin to witness it. He was so used to being alone. He almost always had people around him, but he was still alone. He had never let anyone close. Until Justin. That was the crux of the problem. He didn’t want Justin to think he was damaged, unlovable. Being an asshole, a jerk, a loser, would be preferable. He could not trust Justin with the truth and bear to see the rejection he was sure would result. Better to send him away, and handle it alone.

Jennifer knew what she had to do. Knew it would hurt everyone involved. As a mother, she had had lessons in tough love, and it never got easier. She knew she was right, and when they all looked back on it, she hoped they would understand and forgive her.

"Brian?"

Desperate, hazel eyes, met hers from the frame of her hands still on his cheeks.

"Brian, you have been handling this, pretty well, and for a long time, but you have never _dealt_ with it."

He tried to pull away, but she held his face in a firm grip, leaning her forehead to his in a gesture she hoped he recognized.

"Listen to me. Are you listening?" Her voice was laced with demand, but gentle in delivery.

Brian's mouth pulled to the side, a hint of a smile.

"I think you were right to send him away. I think you are right to go away when you are healed to get the care you need. But not for the reasons you think. I know you love him…desperately. And I think… I think you don’t know if you will still love him if you get better," She tapped a finger on his temple. "or if you _need_ him because you're sick, or vice versa. I think, that you think, you will be a different person if you get help, and you are scared he won't love you anymore. You are afraid you won't love yourself anymore. It's your fucking pride, Brian.

I promise I will help you in any way I can, and if I have to break my son's heart so you can get the help you need, then I will do it. Without question. Because you…" her tears were falling now too, because she meant every word. "Because you, Brian, are just as important to me as he is."

He lurched up, wrapping his good arm around her back, holding tightly, as he buried his face in her neck. She encircled his shoulders, hugging him back for all she was worth, rocking slightly until he pulled away, embarrassed by his emotions.

Leaving it in the past, she retrieved his hairbrush, used it to tame his hair, and stood by the window before turning to him with a dramatic sigh. "So, any ideas how we're going to get him to let you go?"

Brian gave her a real grin this time, and she shook her head, holding out her hands to stop his words, "Something _besides_ pushing him off a cliff?" Brian's grin disappeared.

*************************************************************************************

Justin was getting out of the car in front of the apartment building when someone called his name. Noah waved at him to get his attention then signaled the driver to move along.

"I didn’t expect you to be here," Justin shook his hand, "everything all right?"

"Not really Mr. Taylor. There has been an accident and I have been instructed to take you to the hospital." Noah opened the door for him, letting him in the car, then took the driver's seat.

"What happened?" Justin could not keep the tremor from his voice and sought out Noah's face in the rearview mirror.

"Mr. Kinney had an accident last night that resulted in some injuries requiring hospitalization."

"He get drunk and fall down the stairs?" Justin went from scared to sarcastic in an instant, once he knew no one was critical.

"Uh, not exactly, someone will explain it when we get there." Noah's tone said that there was more to it and Justin was once again, left wondering if it was cancer.

His stomach sank, sorry for his sarcastic remark. He put the time on the drive to better use, trying to figure out a way to get Brian to let him help.

Noah stopped in front of the doors to the hospital and gave Justin the room number for Brian's suite. He then called Everett to let him know that Justin was on his way up. Everett told him to go home and get some rest. As he pulled away from the curb, he wondered if Everett was going to take his own advice.

_Probably not in the near future._

_*************************************************************************************_

Justin stood with a small group of people waiting for the elevator. The elderly couple to his right, were carrying gift bags and a large bouquet of flowers talking about the weird name their daughter had just given their first grandson. They shook their heads forlornly trying to come up with a suitable nickname.

On his left were three nurses, obviously coming back from the cafeteria, holding Styrofoam containers. Two of them were fairly young, with the third in her mid to late thirties.

The young brunette was giggling, "Hey, did you guys see who came in last night?"

The older woman did her best to ignore them, but Justin could see she was listening anyway. The other girl shook her head and leaned closer.

The first said, "Brian. Fucking. Kinney! Can you believe it?"

"No way! Are you sure?"

"As sure as I'm standing here." She crowed, delighted she knew something her friend did not.

The older nurse led the way as the elevator doors opened and Justin followed them in. The two girls ended up in the back with him and the older woman in front.

"I'll tell you something else, he came on Medivac and taken straight to the OR. I found out from one of the nurses there, that his heart stopped."

"OMG!" said the second girl. "Tell me he's okay though, right?"

"Oh, he's fine now, got all the people on the eighth floor running in circles doing his bidding."

The second girl again, "He can stop my heart any time, he's so fucking hot!"

Both of them giggling this time, and the older woman speared them both with a look that could curdle milk, so they stopped talking.

It was just as well since the doors opened on the eighth floor and Justin exited, only to run smack into Everett as he tried to catch it. The doors closed and Everett swore, hitting the down button again, before he turned to Justin.

"He's in room 8001 at the end of the hall. The doctor just gave him some painkillers about twenty minutes ago, so I can't promise he is still awake. Even if he is, he's not likely to make any sense if he tries to talk. Marc is on duty, he hasn’t slept all night, so don’t cross him. I'm leaving to get dry clothes and take care of some stuff, but I'll be back later. You have my number."

Justin had not managed to get a word in edgewise, which he was sure was Everett's intent. So he walked down the hallway and saw Marc stand up from his seat as he approached. Not wanting to be waylaid again, he headed him off.

"I won't do anything to piss you off. I just want to see him."

Marc correctly read the stubborn stance and crossed arms of someone on the last of their nerves, and opened the door for him.

Justin nodded his thanks, hesitated on the threshold, unsure of what he would find. He stood up straighter, ran his sweaty palms over his thighs and stepped through the door.

The first thing he saw was his mother's back as she sat on the bed.

"Mom? What are you doing here?"

Jennifer stood up and engulfed him in a hug.

"Hey, Sweetheart. I thought you were going to call me when you got here."

"I didn’t know you were here, how long _have_ you been here?"

Jennifer let him go, and turned to Brian who nodded. She smiled at Justin and left the room, making sure the door closed behind her.

Justin went to Brian and sat on the bed.

"I'm so pissed at you right now." There was no inflection, no hint of hidden feelings.

It didn’t matter.

Brian read him instantly. The fear, the rejection, the betrayal. But he read the love too, under all the other.

He pulled his lips in, afraid to say anything that would make Justin want to leave. As much as he knew Justin would have to leave, he wanted him here for now. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t help it. He opened his good arm and Justin immediately crawled into the bed to lie down next to him, head on Brian's chest, wrapped in Brian's warmth.

With his head tucked under Brian's chin, he spoke, as Brian twirled a bit of his hair.

"It's the cancer, isn’t it. Its back again. That’s why you pushed me away."

Brian's hand stilled, cupping the back of Justin's head.

"No."

Justin tried to lift his head to see Brian's face, but Brian held him down gently, went back to playing with his hair.

"Then… why?" Justin was clearly trying to keep his emotions under control, to gain the answers he needed.

"I don’t want to talk about it right now." Before Justin could protest, he added, "I promise we will talk. But right now I just want this."

Justin settled. He would have to wait, but Brian had given him a promise. Something he never did unless he knew he could keep it. They lay that way, silent, until Brian drifted on the edges of sleep.

Justin got up to use the restroom, but stopped dead in his tracks when Brian mumbled, "Don’t let 'em…turn off…the lights…I'm afraid…of…the…"

Justin stared in shock at his sleeping lover.

_Brian? Afraid?_

_What. The. Fuck!_

*************************************************************************************

Justin closed Brian's door and stomped to the waiting room with all the fury of a tornado whistling though dry fields. His mother and Emmett were having a quiet discussion involving a lot of hand waving and shaking heads.

"Where is she?" He demanded.

When they gave him twin perplexed looks he clarified, "Cynthia. She's gotta be around here somewhere. She watches over him like he's a pile of gold in a room full of Nazis."

Jennifer didn’t know and shrugged but Emmett said, "Last I heard, Sweetie, she was going to the cafeteria for coffee."

Justin turned on his heel and went back to the elevators. Thankfully he was alone for the ride. He stepped out, looked for a sign that would point him in the right direction, then headed down a long hallway. Another sign pointed left. As he rounded the corner, he saw Everett, in dry clothes, with his hands on Cynthia's shoulders, pressing her into the wall. They were obviously having a very heated, private conversation, but Justin didn’t care as he stalked up to them, demanding answers.

"What the fuck is going on, and why the hell is Brian scared?"

They turned to him at the same time, Everett dropping his hands, as they both blushed at being caught in an argument. Justin didn’t give a shit what they had going on between them, his only concern was Brian.

"Need I repeat myself?" He was channeling Brian, and they knew it.

"Now listen here, you little…"

"Everett, he needs to hear this, regardless of how infantile he's acting right now." Cynthia laid a calming hand on Everett's arm causing him to jerk it away. Cynthia ignored him, gesturing for the two of them to follow her. She led them to a grieving room she had found in her wanderings while Brian was unconscious, then she and Everett gave Justin the whole story of how Brian had come to be in the hospital.

*************************************************************************************

Justin had been roaming the hallways since he had told Cynthia and Everett where to get off for not calling him immediately, when Brian was hurt. They had excused it by saying everything had gone too fast, but he didn’t buy it. Not one bit. He figured they thought he couldn’t handle it. Like he was still a fucking kid, and hadn’t had a relationship with Brian for the last seven years. No one knew Brian like he did. Fuck 'em all, if they thought he was going to sit on the sidelines while Brian ran everybody around. Especially now that he was in danger. The sons of bitches were trying to kill him and Justin didn’t even get a phone call. Granted, he had made a big scene out of leaving him, but everyone knew they always got back together.

His cell rang and he answered without checking who it was.

"Hello?"

"Justin, are you coming back?" It was his mother.

"Don’t know why I should, everyone seems to think I'm unnecessary."

Jennifer was not surprised her son was angry, only that he had taken so long for him to gain a head of steam.

"Justin, it was my decision not to call you."

He hung up on her and ran back to the waiting room.

"What the fuck do you mean it was your decision?"

"I am Brian's Medical Power of Attorney. If he is unable…"

"I know what the fuck it means! Why you?" Justin was losing his anger and sliding towards hurt.

Jennifer kept her voice calm. "Because he trusts me to do the right thing."

"How long?"

"I really don’t think that is relevant."

"Don’t give me that shit, Mom. Of course it's relevant."

"That may be so, to you, but it was Brian's decision and not my place to speak of it."

Three sharp tones came over the PA system followed by "respond to 8001", then it repeated.

Their faces were mirrors of concern as they hustled to Brian's room.

They heard the crashing and swearing before they were halfway there. An orderly came falling out of the door with a bloody nose and a nurse crying on his heels. Justin had heard Brian in a rage before, but this was a whole new level for him. Jennifer tried to hold Justin back, but he shook her off and entered the room.

"…do you hear me, motherfucker?! You don’t ever get to touch me again! You come near me I'll rip your fucking balls off and fucking choke you with 'em."

Justin stared at the remaining nurses and the doctor holding a syringe. Brian's bad arm hung limp at his side, the soft cast hanging open, ineffective. As Brian shouted obscenities and paced the room, the bad arm swung with his momentum and a grimace contorted his face.

Justin wasn’t sure what to do, but whatever the medical people had been trying was obviously not working. He took a shot in the dark.

"Hey! Asshole!" Justin shouted and Brian stopped yelling but continued to pace.

"You heard me, fucker!" All movement stopped.

Justin waved the medical people out of the room. The doctor was reluctant to go, but did so anyway. Jennifer stopped him outside the door and talked him in to waiting with her.

Together they watched Justin walk to Brian and whisper to him, without touching him. Brian leaned closer so he could hear and Justin took the opportunity to lay his hand on Brian's bad arm causing him to suck a breath between his teeth and wince in pain. Justin just kept talking. They could not hear the words, but the tone was soothing, sometimes teasing. For twenty minutes, Brian stood completely still, with his ear next to Justin's mouth, his eyes seeing nothing.

Justin waved the doctor back in, continuing to speak as he held Brian's face next to his, so he could not see what the doctor was doing. He gave Brian the shot, then swiftly rebound his arm and shoulder. He gave Justin a nod of approval before he went back to wait with Jennifer.

Justin slipped an arm around Brian's waist, leading him to the bed and helping him remove the bathrobe before climbing in with him. The doctor opened his mouth to say something, but Justin's look promised retribution if he dared and Jennifer's was equally deadly.

Justin just kept talking. Nonsense stuff. But he arranged himself their usual way, until he was comfortable that Brian was in an untroubled sleep. He lingered for longer than necessary, rubbing a palm over Brian's chest, feeling it rise and fall with his breathing.

It was when he began lightly snoring, that Justin removed himself from Brian's embrace, turned on the bedside lamp, extinguished the overhead, and dragged his audience to the waiting room.

*************************************************************************************

Michael ran from the back room of store to pick up the ringing phone.

"Michael, it's Lindsay. I'm sorry to bother you at work, but I was hoping you had talked to Brian today?"

"Sorry Linds, I haven’t heard from him in a few days. I tried calling him this morning, but keep getting his voicemail. I even tried his office. No luck."

"Oh. I tried Cynthia, then Ted, and I can't get anyone to answer. Do you think everything is all right?"

"I think, we're a couple of worry-warts. From what I saw of the show last night, it would not surprise me to find out they are all sleeping off the celebration." Michael joked.

"You're probably right. I just wanted to let Brian know he now has the responsibility of a magic show, the next time he's here."

"The kids really liked his performance, huh?"

"I'll send you a copy of the video, and the resulting meltdown. It will seem as if you were here." Lindsay teased.

*************************************************************************************

"What? Are you sure?" Carl asked in disbelief. He was on his cell phone as he cleared his desk. It was nearing time to go home.

On the other end of the line, Everett gave him all the information he had about the two attempts on Brian's life, and the contact information for the officers in charge of the investigation in New York.

"I know you don’t have any kind of jurisdiction here, but I thought maybe you could reach out, offer to help, or just see if they would share information with you. I did the same, but since Brian and I are business partners, it is unlikely they will share with me, as I am a potential suspect."

"I see your point," Carl's gruff voice was low "I'll reach out, find out what I can, but this stays between us."

Everett agreed before hanging up and Carl slid down to his chair.

He had a feeling he would not be turning in retirement papers any time soon.

The hardest part was going to be figuring out a way to tell Debbie, without telling her about Brian.

************************************************************************************

Aaron Jacobson juggled half a dozen, aluminum take out pans covered with foil and his briefcase as he followed Cynthia's directions to the waiting room on the eighth floor. She saw him coming and invited her companions to accompany her to the grieving room she had used earlier.

Ted had returned a few minutes before and Justin had just come out of Brian's room to tell them he was sleeping and he wanted to talk. The grieving room seemed to be the only place in the hospital able to afford the privacy their group would need, so they arranged themselves around the room, trying to make the best of the mildly uncomfortable furniture.

Everett took the lone upholstered chair off to the side, tilted his head to his chest, and dozed while the rest of them ate the food A.J. had provided. He opened his briefcase, retrieving a thick manila envelope and handed it to Cynthia before offering his good wishes and leaving.

The rest of the meal proceeded in silence as everyone did their best to deal with why they were there. Justin noted that the levels of distress were varied.

Everett slept, seemingly unconcerned for the moment, and Cynthia reviewed whatever documents her assistant had delivered, her movements tight and her face impassive.

Ted, now that Brian seemed to be on the mend and not yet having witnessed one of Brian's episodes, appeared to be in good spirits, now that all was right in his world. Brian would live to rule the kingdom once again.

Emmett was unusually quiet, even when Ted made a crack about the latest celebrity scandal. Justin would even go so far as to say he was sad. Not depressed, just very sad.

His mother was a little harder to read though. She made small attempts to draw the others into conversation, but kept it light, eventually falling to silence when it became stilted and awkward.

Justin had had enough. He had waited long enough. He stood up, to begin his questioning, all eyes turning to him. Except Cynthia's. She merely held up a hand to stop him as she finished with her papers. Sliding them back into the envelope, she said "Sit down." It was not a request and Justin bristled at her tone. She saw it, lost patience with him and continued, "Look, you and I, we can get into a pissing contest if you want, but I can assure you, I will win. You say you want answers and I am the one that will most likely be able to provide them. I will not, however, bow to your demands, or respond to childish behavior. I have known you for a while now, and I know how much Brian cares about you, so I am willing to overlook some things because you are stressed and feel as if we left you out. I get it. But that was Brian's decision and you will have to take it up with him."

Justin slumped, boneless, to his seat. The angry wind sucked from his sails of righteous indignation.

Cynthia took that as an acceptance of her role there and began to speak.

"It goes without saying, that everything said, mentioned, alluded to, or conclusions drawn after the fact, in this room, stays confidential. Those of us here, are here because of our relationships, on whatever level, with Brian. Some of us have personal or business relationships with him and some of us have both. We all care about him and want what is best for him. I have watched all of you, as well as those not present, interact with him over the years, and I am here to tell you that there is not a single one of you that knows him as well as I do."

Justin glanced at the others. Everett had not moved a muscle, but Justin sensed him tense up. He was listening, not sleeping. Ted was paying attention, a concerned look on his face, while his mother and Emmett shared a look he could not decipher.

"I have known Brian since I was four years old, which goes beyond what anyone else can claim, and gives me a perspective on him that no one else will understand. Suffice it to say, that everything I do for him or by his request, is because I love him and owe him a debt I will never be able to repay, the same as everyone else in this room."

She made eye contact with everyone but Everett, causing some discomfort. It was obvious she knew more about their lives than they had previously thought or were comfortable with.

"For those of you that haven’t figured it out yet, Brian has PTSD. It presents for many different reasons and the symptoms vary from person to person as does the severity. For some people, counseling works and the patient moves on with their life. In many cases the symptoms take years to present and the cause is more difficult to pinpoint. Again, counseling or therapy helps. Brian has only recently" she looked at Justin, "begun to admit he might have a problem. As we all know, this was a difficult admission for him. But, true to form, once admitted, he wanted to do something about it. He was taking steps to do that." She sipped her coffee.

"Unfortunately, last night's events, and his subsequent injuries, take precedence for him. However selfish it may seem to you, Brian made choices he felt were in our best interest. I intend to honor those choices as most of them are in his best interest as well, and the rest I will take up with him. What I need from everyone in this room is a promise, a promise to follow my lead, without question or argument, before we continue even though you may never have all the answers or explanations you want or feel entitled to."

Heads nodded around the room.

"Good. First, he must never know of this or subsequent conversations we have on these matters. If you can't do that, you need to leave now."

Everyone stayed seated. "There will be no more demands of his time or affections by anyone here or, God forbid, those that are not here. He is barely holding on, as you have seen, and I suspect that the PTSD may be the least of his instability right now. He has been distancing himself from the company, in small ways, for some time. I don’t know why, and it bothers me because I haven’t managed to find the reason for it.

Ted, I am going to send you and Jacobson, back to Pittsburgh. I need to know, and so does Brian, that the office there is in hands we can trust. I also need you to run interference with friends and family there. I will let you know, after I talk to Brian again, what you can divulge about his circumstances and what needs to be kept to ourselves. Can you do that?"

Ted thought about Michael and Debbie and hesitated. It was a big request, but he agreed.

Cynthia nodded "You will need to make arrangements immediately". She pointed to the door.

"Right now?" Ted asked, incredulous. She just stared at him, her face impassive.

Ted suddenly realized it was a test. She was testing him to see if he would follow her orders without question or explanation. To see if he would give up whatever information might be gleaned from the conversation after he left.

"I see. I'll get right on it."

"Thank you, Ted."

Once he left, Everett sat up. Justin surmised, that whatever was coming, would involve Brian's security, and he noticed the dirty look Cynthia sent Everett's direction.

"Mr. Ryker and I have differing opinions of how to proceed with Brian's safekeeping since last night. He wants more people on him while his arm heals, and I think that could cause more problems. Any thoughts on the matter?"

The question hung in the air but it was Jennifer that broke the silence.

"I don’t know how much you all know about this disease, and I am unaware of Brian's other issues, but I think, at this point, if you surround him with people, even with his safety in mind, it could cause further damage. After Justin was hurt, I wanted to keep him close, protected, but it made it worse. Instead of making Brian feel safe, I think he will feel weak…helpless. I don’t think that is the right move to make…for his mental state, which I think is what your concern is."

Cynthia nodded her agreement looking pointedly at Everett.

"I think my mom is right. He is going to need help while his bones heal and that is going to be a tough sell in itself. If you put guard dogs on him around the clock he will go ballistic." Justin could imagine what that would be like.

Since Cynthia had already mentioned it, he changed the subject. "I know what you mean about the distancing. He's been doing it with me, in small ways as well, for several months. I would like to get together with you, after he comes home, and see if we can come to a reasonable conclusion."

"I can do that." She replied, glad to see he was willing to work with her.

Justin glanced at his watch, realizing it had been an hour and a half since he left Brian.

"I am going to go check on him, if you don’t need me for anything else."

Cynthia followed him to the hallway where they could have some privacy.

"You asked a question earlier and I didn’t give you an answer."

Justin looked confused.

"You asked me why he is scared. I have never known him to be scared of anything. In fact, all evidence points to the contrary."

Justin opened his mouth to argue that he had heard Brian say it, but she stopped him with a hand over his mouth.

"But I _have_ known him to be afraid of two things."

"Scared, afraid, what’s the difference?"

Cynthia shook her head, not sure now if she wanted to reveal something so private, to someone so obtuse. Justin, wanting his answer, gave her an apologetic look.

"It goes against my better judgement to tell you, but… he's afraid of complete darkness."

Somehow that did not seem a big revelation to Justin, as Brian always had some kind of light on at night and Justin had followed suit when he moved in without even noticing. It just always was and didn’t seem to be a real issue.

"And the second?" He asked.

"You will have to figure that one out for yourself, since you wouldn’t believe me if I told you."

With those cryptic words, she let herself back into the room, and Justin went to check on Brian.

*************************************************************************************

Everett had moved closer to the other occupants of the room by the time Cynthia returned. Everyone was quiet, obviously waiting for her to take the lead.

"Mr. Ryker, any headway on a location for him to 'recuperate'".

Everett shook his head. "He said he wants to go somewhere warm, which is fine, I have contacts all over, but there is a problem. All of those contacts lead back to me. We need a place to hole up, that no one would think to look. For that, I am going to have to dig around, then we are going to have to get creative with the money so the back trail is hidden. For that we need time we don’t have."

"I know a place." Emmett whispered, then cleared his throat. Everyone turned to him.

"Brian won't like it, but it's safe, hidden, and won't cost a dime. I will need a few days to make arrangements, but all in all, I should have everything ready for us when we get there." He made his way to the door as he pulled out a pen, and small pad of paper.

"WE?", said Cynthia and Everett at the same time.

Emmett gave them a sad smile. "It may surprise you, but yes, _we_. You're stuck with me now and so is he."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 

           There are many different kinds of bravery.

            J.M. Barrie

 

 

 

Emmett left the meeting with the heavy weight of foreboding following him like a storm on the horizon. Not visible, but felt in the air as it settled on the skin and burdened the lungs. He pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket, checked the time, and found a secluded chair to make his call.

THE CALL.

The one he swore to himself that he would never make.

He drew breath, as deep as he could, and exhaled.

He could do this.

He would do this.

For Brian.

*************************************************************************************

Dr. Anders was sorting through the stack of patient files on his desk, wondering why he bothered to go on vacation, when he came back to all the work that piled up when he was gone. As the Director of Emergency for the hospital, the proverbial buck, stopped with him. All patient files from the ER came across his desk for perusal and oversight. All medical staff in the department subjected to his evaluation. He had worked hard for thirty years to attain a "desk job" at a hospital, and now wished he was still working on the floor with the patients. No amount of administrative staff would be successful in helping with the oversight, as patient files were confidential.

He brushed a liver spotted hand through thinning white hair as he grabbed the next file from the top of the stack, absently flipping it open as he reached for his coffee cup. Glancing at the name on the file, his hand froze, cup half way to his mouth, as he quickly scanned the contents of the first page. Setting the cup down, he pushed back from the desk and carried the file out of the office, locking it behind him, his secretary giving a startled shriek as he hurried past her desk.

*************************************************************************************

Justin was sitting across from his mother in the waiting room. His last check on Brian showed him sleeping peacefully, if not comfortably. Mother and son sat quietly, not really knowing how to begin the conversation both knew had to happen, but hesitant to start what could and most likely would, end up in another argument.

Jennifer watched him as he studied everything around him, avoiding eye contact. She marveled at the man he had become under Brian's tutelage and yearned still for the boy he had been before the prom. He was more careful with his feelings now, sometimes seeming to be adrift, but she knew her son. He didn’t want to have this conversation because he already knew what she was going to say. More importantly, he knew she was right, and he was still trying to figure a way for it not to be.

"Justin?"

He did not want to look at her face. He already knew what he would find there. She would be compassionate, but firm. Understanding his heartbreak, but resolved in doing what was right. He loved his mother, but sometimes he wished she wasn't a good one. A bad mother would let him simmer in anger, a bad mother would let him be selfish and demand his needs were more important. A bad mother would not be trying to have this conversation, and a bad mother would not have flown here in the middle of the night to help someone she had every right to dislike, but couldn’t.

Brian had already made the choice for treatment…alone. He had chosen to get that treatment without telling or consulting him. His mother knew things about Brian, as did Cynthia, that he didn’t. Brian had confided things to them, and kept him at arms-length.

_And the first thing she will tell me, is all of these thoughts are selfish._

_She would be right._

_Attempted murder trumps what I want, so I should just 'grow a pair', as Brian would say, and deal with it._

"I know Mom", and she could see that he did, "I am not foolish enough to think that Brian could handle what I think about him pushing me away, again, right now. I will have to save that for some other time. The investigation and his treatment are more important. I just can't stand being helpless. I have known about the nightmares since we first met."

Jennifer, to her credit, gave no indication of surprise at that revelation, and barely managed to control the urge to interrogate her son.

"Kinda hard to miss them, when you're together as long as us." Justin stood up to pace. "I broached the subject one time, years ago, and he shut me down…hard. He made it very clear that it was not something he would share with me, or talk about in any way. So, I let it go. We pretended they didn’t happen. Even when he sought me out for comfort in his sleep I never brought it up again. All I wanted to do was help, and now I don’t have the first clue how to do that, because I can't fix this…whatever this is… because I don't even know what it is. Because it’s a helluva lot more than PTSD." He slumped back into his chair and covered his face with his hands as if to block the world out, if only for a few moments.

"You understand then, why he did it?" His mother's voice was calm, almost serene. He didn’t bother to move his hands, just nodded.

"You understand what has to happen now?" He heard her pain, for having to make the point. He nodded again.

"Do you need anything?" Justin dropped his hands and stared at her for a minute before moving next to her and leaning into the hug she already had waiting.

*************************************************************************************

Cynthia was out of things to handle. The past forty-eight hours had been one thing after another, but she had taken care of everything or delegated it to someone that could. The police department had been given everything they requested, Kinnetik and all of its holdings had been safeguarded, and she had put a very tight leash on those in the know about Brian and his condition. It was nearing midnight. The waiting room was empty. She had no business concerns left to occupy her mind. Only time.

Time to finally consider the ramifications of the attack.

Time to wonder who planned it.

Time to think about how it could have ended differently.

Time to thank the stars that it had not.

Time to curse fate for slapping at a man already suffering.

Time to wonder if Brian…

"Coffee?" Everett interrupted her musings by holding out a cup from the local café. She offered him a weak smile, glad it was not from the hospital cafeteria, and taking a sip, realized he had already doctored it the way she liked, proving once again, that nothing got past him. He dragged a low table over in front of her chair and sat on it so he could be close but still facing her.

"I'm sorry, for getting on your case earlier." He said. Cynthia just waved her free hand dismissively.

"No, don’t brush it off. You were right. I should have considered how well you know him and taken guidance from you, rather than treating this like a military operation." He flushed pink, "Old habits die hard you know? You were also right, that I am used to giving orders, not taking them." He sat up taller, looking her straight in the eye, "You, however, have to understand the situation I am in."

She eyed him back warily, wondering if he was going to play big man on campus, now that things had settled down.

He continued, "Kinnetik does not own my business. Brian was adamant that I retain controlling interest, specifically in case of a situation like this. It is my company and all decisions are mine including how best to take care of my clients. In effect, Brian is my client, and I take his trust very seriously. I know you have read the contracts for my services as they pertain to Kinnetic and its holdings, but I doubt you have read the contracts for services that Brian personally presented for the protection of key personnel, including but not limited to, employees , friends, and family members."

Cynthia raised an eyebrow at that, but declined to comment on it, as there seemed to be more he had to say, so she ate two antacids and waited.

"In matters pertaining to these specific contracts, I must have your complete understanding that I will make any and all decisions necessary to carry out my duties. I do not fall under the employment contract with Kinnetik, but instead the client contract with Brian. It is a very fine line I walk, at the moment, but the latter negates the former in very specific circumstances including the one we find ourselves in right now." Everett had watched her carefully to determine if she was going to balk at his new role, but found no signs of discontent as she mulled over what he said. She seemed to want to say something but was unsure if she should proceed, so he gestured with his hand for her to say what she needed to say.

She gave him a full minute of silence, a "tell" of hers that meant she was ordering her thoughts, and deciding what to say and more importantly, what not to say, before she spoke.

"First, I know Brian trusts you. He would not have partnered with you otherwise, therefore I trust you. Second, Brian trusts me, therefore I have read every single contract he has made with you personally and with your company. Third, it is a very fine line you walk and as acting CEO of Kinnetik, I will ensure you do not lose your balance, so to speak. Fourth, as a recipient of the services of the private contracts, I can only say thank you. Thank you for your time and effort on our behalf. Thank you for taking the situation in hand, and acting accordingly." She watched him in turn, hoping to catch a glimpse of how he felt about her knowledge. Not surprisingly, he revealed nothing. "I also want to say I'm sorry," she almost laughed at the look of surprise on his face. "What? I do know how to say it when it's true. I am sorry, I should have let you handle it. You were right, it was what you and your team have trained to do, and I compounded the problem. So… I'm sorry." Her smile was bashful, completely out of character for the self-assured woman he knew she was.

Everett was speechless. Their fight in the hall earlier had left both of them feeling that the other had no understanding of the previous events and the risk involved. It seemed now, after thinking about it, they had both come to new understanding of the other's point of view and he now had to come clean as well.

"I accept your apology and offer my own. Leaping from the ship, naked, was foolhardy and reckless, but in retrospect probably the only thing that saved his life. So, I too am sorry for what I said. I just want you to understand that I was angry, not at what you did, but because you put yourself at risk and I selfishly wanted to protect you first. A sure sign that I am beginning to care too much about…. Ah fuck it".

He leaned forward then, taking her mouth with his, grasping her head in both of his big hands and doing his best to show her just how much it would have hurt him, if things had turned out differently.

*************************************************************************************

The next morning brought icy temperatures and needling rain. Brian watched it stab at the window while Justin slept in the upholstered chair he had appropriated sometime during the night. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, indicating that he had never left the hospital. Brian could see that he was tired and decided not to wake him until he had to.

He wanted to feign sleep when he heard the shower turn off in the adjoining bathroom, in an attempt to avoid the conversation Cynthia would want to have when she emerged, and decided he was alot of things, but a coward was not one of them. Added to that, she would see right through it and call bullshit. In the end, it simply was not worth the effort.

She came out wearing a pair of dark slacks and a light blue button down, securing her still damp hair into a bun. The bun was a sure sign of "down and dirty" Cynthia. She watched him watch her and gave him a smile. "Yes, we have serious business to discuss, but the bun is more for convenience than an indicator of my intents. So you can relax. I won't bite your head off… yet."

He did, visibly relax, and she silently congratulated herself for relieving some of his anxiety. Probably no one else on the planet would have seen it, but she had and would take it as a win.

"I'm glad to see you out of those hideous cartoon scrubs. If I had to see you in them one more time, I think my eyes would bleed." It was the closest he could come to an attempt at humor. "So Boss Lady, what's the scoop?" He needed facts, reassurances, and she settled in the hard chair next to the bed to give them. Pulling the notepad from her bag, she started at the top in their customary way giving him all pertinent information, in list form, then waiting for his decisions.

"Ted and A.J. will be leaving for Pittsburgh on the noon flight, so if you have anything for them you have the next seven and a half hours to let them know before they go. Ted is not as happy as you would think, but I suppose it is because I put him on family as well as business."

Brian nodded for her to continue.

"The cops have been given everything requested and then some, but Everett and I concur that they will show up here sometime today to take your statement, and if Everett is right, have you look at mug shots. He has gone to great lengths to secure all key personnel and facilities in case a second attempt is made." She glanced quickly at Justin then continued with her report.

"So far there have only been requests from the media, for a follow up interview for the fundraiser. No one seems to have learned of your hospitalization, but Everett and I, along with your PR guru Alex, came up with something suitable for a press conference if need be. Since you own all of Kinnetiks holdings outright or have controlling interest, with the exception of Security Force, there are no board members to tell of the situation at this time."

She looked up for confirmation and he waved for her to continue. "I have some documents for you to sign, that were in the works before this started and a list of phone calls you need to return, once it actually becomes morning. That is the most pressing of the business."

She took a hesitant breath but forged ahead. "The family needs to be told something. I know you don’t want them all up in your personal life, and I get that, but if they find out second hand then there is going to be drama on the scale of an atomic blast. Lindsay has called a dozen times, as has Michael, and they are getting increasingly frustrated."

Brian looked like he wanted to throw something but stayed quiet.

"Due to your nearly celebrity status, and more to the point, your charitable donations to this hospital, you have been subjected to almost every test known to man, and had them given priority status at the labs. I am glad to say you are cancer free, and show no signs of any other lab detectable disease, venereal or otherwise." He actually cracked a smile at that, and she took it as another win. He had been far too maudlin over the last few months.

"I have gotten indications that you will be released soon and I think we have a line on a place for you to "recuperate". We should have that set up in a couple of days, so I will do what I can to help you get everything in line before you leave. Have you found a…doctor, (she drew the line at saying psychiatrist in his presence), for your care after your healed?"

He wrinkled his nose at her inference, and his lips tightened. "I have nothing for Ted or A.J. since the day to day is now your responsibility." He said as he signed the documents she presented for him. "As for Everett, I expected no less, but I'm glad he is capable of the juggling act I'm sure this situation is requiring of him." He gave her a pointed look, one that said he was not unaware of their probable discord over the same situation. "The family can be told there was an accident, but not the attempt on my life, which was the second in two days by the way, I was stabbed the day before."

Cynthia paled, no one had told her about that.

"Before you get pissed off, there wasn't time and it seemed random, at first, but you are hearing about it now, from me, so there is no misunderstanding. No reason to be pissed at Everett either, since he would not have divulged it to you, in any event, unless I told him to, which I did not, considering the fundraiser and the fact I needed to be there."

She found that point debatable, but did not say anything. She was not willing to upset him over something that was already behind them and had no real bearing on the current conversation.

"I will call Lindsay and Michael and give them the accident scenario, hinting at a vacation to recuperate for a few weeks. I will let them know to get in touch with you if they need to talk to me, but only in an emergency. I hate to not have contact with the kids for that long, but I don’t really see a way around it." She could tell that of all the restrictions he was going to have, not seeing the kids was going to be one of the toughest to deal with. She felt bad, but she also understood that he would want to keep them as far away from possible trouble as he could. She just hoped it didn’t cause further damage to the fragile emotional state he seemed to be in recently.

"You realize the danger you are going to be in as my personal liaison, don’t you?" A myriad of emotions tumbled one over the other in his hazel eyes.

She pretended to be shocked that he would even ask such a stupid question, and joked "Brian, I have known you my whole life, when have I ever not been in danger?"

He gave her a sad, self-deprecating smirk, "Touche", he breathed as he pressed his thumb to the slight dent in her chin, before turning back to the window.

Concluding that he wanted to be alone, and having nothing else to offer as a distraction, she gathered her things and made for the door.

"Thanks," she heard him say, but did not turn around, "for coming after me".

She found it telling that he did not say for saving his life, just for the effort of caring enough to try. It made her heartbreakingly sad, but she gave him back the line he had given her years ago, "All in a day's work." Adding the thought, my sweet dark angel, as she let the door drift shut behind her.

*************************************************************************************

Justin slowly rose through the haze of exhausted sleep, hearing his mother's voice in soothing tones, reminding him of his childhood when he was home sick from school. For a few moments, he even imagined it was him she was talking to, so he didn’t immediately open his eyes until she asked him if he needed help to the bathroom. Wait…what the fuck? He jerked upright, eyes wide as saucers, before realizing it was Brian, she was speaking to. They both stared at him, mouths agape, before laughing their asses off.

"Guess Sunny-Boy over there doesn’t want you near my hotness." Brian could not keep his amusement from showing and Jennifer opted to play along, if it meant a few more minutes of a happy and relaxed Brian. Tongue firmly in cheek, she ran a hand down Brian's bicep and gave him an exaggerated leer before saying, "I do have a thing for younger men you know". Setting off a fresh peal of laughter and causing Justin to jump, bleary eyed, from his seat to escort Brian to the bathroom. She could hear Justin's sulking voice and Brian's mocking laughter as she unpacked the paper bags holding the breakfast she brought from a local restaurant.

*************************************************************************************

Marc and Lara stepped off the elevator at nine o'clock sharp. Everett rose from his chair outside Brian's room and intercepted them, tilting his head for them to follow as he walked the short distance to the window at the end of the hall. Brian's room was the last in the corridor, so they were not impeding traffic, and afforded some privacy while still being able to monitor the coming and going of everyone in the hall, and more specifically, Brian's room.

"You look like shit Pops, when was the last time you slept?" Lara eyed him critically, searching with a doctor's eye for anything that might indicate a need for medical intervention.

Everett just rolled his eyes at her, not really upset, but understanding her concern nevertheless. "I caught a couple of hours here and there. Nothing I haven’t done before."

"Uh Huh, but you were a lot younger then, how's the blood pressure?" She wrapped her hand around his wrist, in a loving gesture, while inconspicuously placing her thumb on his pulse point to get her own answer.

"It's fine, thank you very much." He said as he pulled his hand away and gave her a knowing look. She just threw him a gamine smile, entirely unapologetic, and he couldn’t help but return it.

It was in that moment, seeing their mirrored smiles, and her earlier use of the term Pops, that Marc had his epiphany. They were related. Not just related, but father and daughter. All the years he had worked with Everett and the last year with Lara as well, and he was just now seeing the similarity. Neither had ever hinted at their relationship and he felt like a world class fool for not having figured it out sooner. Some intelligence agent he was. He was still kicking himself in the ass when Lara realized his dilemma and chuckled at his self-incrimination. He wanted to storm off, but could not before relaying new information to his boss. So he sucked it up and began his report.

"The rescan of ID bracelets for the employees turned up only one missing. A twenty-two year old male, named Darren Saunders. I gave his file to the locals. I've got nothing else, new, to report."

Lara crossed her arms over her chest and widened her stance a bit, "He is here to relieve you." Everett was already shaking his head in the negative, but she insisted. "You haven’t had any reasonable amount of sleep in about seventy-two hours, by my count, and I don’t have to tell you what the repercussions of that could be. As a doctor, I have to advise you to get some down time, though I know you are getting ready to blow me off."

Everett understood her concerns, but could not give in to the need for sleep, yet, so he offered her a compromise. "I promise to take six hours down, after the cops come. I need to be here, personally, to get a read on the investigators, and hear first-hand what they have so far, so I can push my assets in the proper directions, while making sure the police are on the right track."

Lara simply nodded, taking into account the fact that he was personally involved in Brian's case and the necessity of his presence for the investigation. That settled, Marc took up the post outside Brian's room, and Lara led her father off to get some food into him and pick his brain for Brian's condition.

*************************************************************************************

Michael slid into his usual booth at the diner, Lindsay hot on his heels. She arranged herself primly in the seat across from him, picking up a menu and immediately setting it back on the scarred surface of the table. Her anxiety was palpable, causing Michael to wonder at its cause. She had called him at the ass crack of dawn and maneuvered him into meeting her here without Ben. Seeing that she had also left Mel out of this meeting, he could only surmise she had reason to want secrecy. To what ends he could only guess, so he waited, fidgeting, for her to proceed.

"Did you see the show?" She asked him, as a waiter poured two cups of coffee for them.

Michael nodded and smiled, "It was awesome, Brian really knows what he's doing. I think he raised something like three million dollars for his charity." He was glad she chose Brian as their topic of conversation, he could handle that, so he figured he could relax, and her anxiety was related to something else. He could not have been more wrong.

"Michael, I need to talk to you about something, but I need you to keep it between us." She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his affirmation. He most definitely did not want to give it, but saw no easy way out of it. When he didn’t respond for a few seconds, Lindsay read into it what she wanted and continued.

"A couple days ago, Brian came to Toronto and asked me to have his baby."

Michael choked on his coffee and spent several moments regaining his ability to breathe, and several more cleaning up his mess, all the while trying unsuccessfully to wrap his brain around that statement.

"I did not give him an answer, and certainly never would without Mel's approval," Michael wasn't so sure about that, "but I have not been able to get a hold of him since. I really need to talk to him."

Michael wished himself far from the diner, far from the state, if truth be told. He did not want to be any more involved with the munchers than he absolutely had to be for the sake of his daughter. More importantly, he did not want to be involved with the munchers when it concerned Brian. He had learned that lesson long ago with the custody suit.

"Lindsay, I don’t think I want to talk about whatever it is that you think I need to be here for." Michael made sure that his voice was firm, but not offensive.

"I am just concerned is all," her eyes were pleading, "have you talked to him since Friday?"

Michael shook his head, "I've been trying, to congratulate him, ya know? But it goes straight to voicemail. I even tried Cynthia, but she just said he was busy. I don’t believe her for a minute. I have never heard her sound quite that way before. She wasn’t mean or anything, just sorta resigned." Michael shook his head again, not even sure that was an appropriate description of how she had sounded.

Lindsay could see Michael heading into a typical brood, but she still needed him for answers before he became too self-involved to respond openly. "Have you talked to anyone that has spoken to him since the fundraiser?" She managed to keep her tone light, unconcerned, so as not to draw any particular attention.

Michael just stared into his coffee and shook his head.

"Well, I suppose he will call me when he has some time. Thanks for meeting with me, it was good to see you again." Lindsay tossed a bill on the table to cover the tab and left him sitting there, still pondering the idea that Brian wanted another kid, while not questioning her presence in Pittsburgh. Her plan had worked.

*************************************************************************************

Lieutenant Samantha Martinez and Senior Detective Robert Hale worked well together. By virtue of their respective seniority, neither was required by the department to have a partner, but after years of coinciding or overlapping cases, had unofficially been working as partners for more than six years. A situation of convenience the department overlooked, as their cases were closed and lawbreakers were remanded to the justice system with resounding and sometimes astonishing success. They were sometimes called supercops by those they worked with, but the truth of the matter was that they simply did everything they could to ensure the job was well done. The fact that they got along and thought along similar lines but from differing angles, just reinforced their status within the department. Both were in their mid to late forties with more than fifteen years on the force.

They had been up all night, poring over the data provided by Kinnetik and Security Force. The sheer amount of information had been daunting to say the least, but specific items had been earmarked as priority by the sender and had painted a quick and concise picture of the events leading to Mr. Kinney's injuries. Whoever had sent the information was well educated in ferreting out seemingly inconsequential data and forming it into a cohesive play by play for the investigators. They had been practically led by the nose, giving both an uneasy feeling that they were missing something. It was the pursuit of that missing piece that had led to the all-nighter, which resulted in nothing more than confirmation of what had been presented in the first place. It was very frustrating.

They came to the conclusion that it was time to question the victim and see if new information would be forthcoming. To that end, they rode the elevator to the eighth floor in silence, each of them entertaining their own thoughts about the case. Nearing the waiting room, they saw a large well-built man rise from a chair at the end of the hall and press a button on his radio.

"Calling for reinforcements." Sam said under her breath and Bobby gave an imperceptible nod of agreement.

Extending her hand as she approached and flashing her badge with the other, she introduced them and asked to see Mr. Kinney. Marc took the hand in a firm grip and gave them his name and title, then asked them to wait, while he checked to see if the patient was awake, and left them in the hallway.

A look passed between the detectives, but neither commented.

Sam kept an eye on her watch. Just as the minute hand was telling her they had been waiting for six minutes, an older obviously military man came striding down the hall, with a good-looking blonde in tow, followed by a painfully unattractive ginger in an expensive suit.

Before they were in earshot Bobby said, "Mr. Ryker, the new CEO, and my guess for the third is lawyer."

Sam was in complete agreement, and Bobby took his turn with introductions when the new group reached them. As if on cue, Marc opened the door and allowed everyone in before moving off to stand at the window. Everett took a station by the door and everyone else did their best to arrange around the room without being too intrusive.

"Mr. Kinney, my name is Samantha Martinez and this is Robert Hale. We are working your case, and would like to ask you some questions, if that would be all right."

She found herself under intense scrutiny by a pair of unfiltered hazel eyes. They tracked her face first, then travelled down her body and moved on to do the same to her partner. It was unnerving to say the least. As investigators, both had become fluent in reading people, while keeping themselves unreadable, but this was an open assessment, in front of others, and neither were too comfortable when it was finished and those eyes came back to her face.

In an instant moment of clarity, she returned the favor. Taking note of the pale skin, the unshaven jaw, the exposed chest and muscled abdomen bared by the gaping silk bathrobe, and the posse of humanity surrounding him. Letting her frank perusal return to his face she offered a silent challenge. The bastard held her gaze for a moment then laughed his ass off. It pissed her off to some degree that she found it charming. The unacknowledged tension left the room and several people visibly relaxed.

"Good, now we understand each other." Sam said as she pulled up a hard plastic chair and opened her briefcase. Bobby took a stance behind her and removed a small notepad and pen from his coat pocket.

"Mr. Kinney, do you know the man that attacked you?" she asked while rifling papers in her case and not looking at him.

Brian watched her intently. "No"

"Did you see the man at any time before he attacked you?"

"No"

"When were you told he impersonated one of your staff?"

"I wasn't"

"You were unaware until now that he impersonated a waiter?"

"No, I was not told, I already knew." She finally looked at him, and he did not need super powers to tell she was immensely curious now.

"How did you know, Mr. Kinney?"

"The instant I got a good look at him, the clothes, the scruff, a general feeling. None of it fit, I never would have hired someone like him."

Bobby arched an eyebrow, but kept taking notes as Sam pressed for more details.

"What do you mean, someone like him?"

"He was dark, for lack of a better term. Not personable…off kilter."

"Did you speak with him?"

"No"

"Then how do you know?"

Brian treated her to an evilly sarcastic smirk, "Because he tried to kill me."

Sam ignored the barb and presented him with a manila folder. "Would you mind looking through these mugshots and seeing if you can identify your attacker?"

Brian leafed through the pages quickly, paused very briefly at one, then continued on swiftly until he came to the one he wanted. Handing it over, he said "This one."

Bobby spoke this time. "You are absolutely sure, Mr. Kinney?"

Brian gave him a look reserved for the supremely stupid and arched a brow.

The Detective clarified, "It is just unusual that victims are so sure this soon after being traumatized. Usually they need to go over the mugshots several times, even then most can't be positive." Brian was losing patience and his pain meds were wearing off. He needed to end this soon.

"Let's get one thing straight. I am NOT a victim and I AM positive."

Everett had been quiet up to now, but stepped forward to intervene, just to have Brian wave him off. Brian was not finished with the good detective yet.

"You have been given video of the altercation, as well as other footage of this man. I have not seen it myself, but I am sure it will be enough to make the match. This man was also given over to your custody, so I hardly think making the charges stick will be difficult. I also know you have been given every single piece of evidence available from our end. What I want now, is for you to tell me what information you have outside of what I provided for you." Brian was having increasing difficultly keeping his emotions in check. His head was pounding and bile was rising into his throat.

"I can't divulge information at this time Mr. Kinney, and I realize that may not be what you want to hear." Sam did her best to keep her tone even as she watched the anxiety build in him.

"Then you can leave." Every word was enunciated clearly and carried an imminent threat.

"I can't do that Mr. Kinney, I have more questions for you." Sam smiled, trying to make him understand that she was not the enemy.

"You will leave this very minute, or I will have my attorney bring charges of harassment." The room fell silent. Everyone was aware of the consequences for threatening a police officer, but no one found a voice to still the onslaught that was Brian's temper, now fully out of control.

"Mr. Kinney…"

Brian was having none of it, he threw the folder with the mugshots in it, towards the door sending the photos spewing in all directions. "Leave, NOW! I'm fucking done being your guinea pig. I don't have to answer your fucking questions!" Justin came to stand by the bed but Brian physically pushed him away, "Stay the fuck away from me, I don’t want you here! Can't you get that through your head?" Justin fled. Everett started ushering people out of the room as Brian picked up whatever he could reach and threw it at the investigators. Jennifer just covered her eyes briefly but stood her ground. Brian continued to yell obscenities until most everyone was gone and his throat was raw. His movements were jerky and he was sweating again. His heart monitor was beeping at an alarming rate and his eyes were wild. When he ran out of things to throw, he pulled at his hair, like he was trying to claw his brain out. The doctor and two nurses came in then, alerted by the machines, and began an assessment. Brian pushed their hands away with growling aggravation and refused to let them near him. Everett convinced them that he would be okay, if they gave him some time and came back later, assuring them that he would get them if he thought it really serious. The doctor gave him a dubious look, but left anyway. Everett rounded on Brian as soon as they were gone.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?"

Some latent part of Brian's brain latched onto the fact that Everett was engaging him and he yelled back. "Who the fuck are you to question me? You work for me, you son of a bitch! You do what I tell you to do!"

Everett figured the best way out of this was for Brian to either pass out from exhaustion/pain, or come to his senses. Either way it went, this outburst had to play out first. Better that he be the one to provoke it and be on the receiving end. "You're absolutely right, I'm a son of a bitch, but I don’t work for you. My company does, and right now you are making my job a thousand times harder!" Everett yelled back.

"So just leave already! Everyone else does!"

"No they don’t you jackass! You push them away!"

"So the fuck what! They would do it eventually anyway!" Jennifer gasped but held her tongue. She had thought Justin's episodes were bad, but this was unbelievable. Brian was dripping sweat and his eyes were almost vacant, like the mouth was moving but no one was driving. His muscles rippled as he waved his arm around to make his point and claw at his hair again. Tension rode his body hard and it seemed like he had no control over it. Everett stood at the end of his bed with his hands on his own hips giving the shit right back at equal volume and astounding levels of profanity for a full ten minutes.

Then Everett said, "Come on you fucking cocksucker! You can fucking well do better than that!"

Brian turned a very unbecoming shade of angry red, "What the fuck did you call me?!"

"You heard me, cocksucker!" Everett sneered, "Poor me, everyone leaves, boo fucking hoo." He mocked in a childish voice. "You're a fucking sissy, a pansy, a fucking fairy!"

Brian paled to bloodless white, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out in stark contrast. His breath came out in a big whoosh as he fell back against the pillows. Silent and still. Jennifer and Everett both held their breath, hoping it was over. Brian closed his eyes, slowly came back into himself. "Please…" his voice cracked, "leave".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it has taken me such a long time to update. I had life and death issues in my real life.  
> I hope you are enjoying the story so far.  
> Comments keep me motivated, so let me know what works (Or doesn't) for you in the story.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around!  
> Saje


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 

                Don’t you understand Tink? You mean more to me than anything in this whole world.

                J.M. Barrie

 

Brian’s quiet yet forceful ejection of them from his room left Everett at a loss as to what really happened. Engaging him in a shouting free for all should have diffused the situation, and it had, but the results were not what he had been expecting. Brian should have returned to himself or fallen over exhausted. The defeated, sad, and vulnerable man left in the bed was the last thing that should have resulted, and Everett was less than pleased. Brian needed help, more help than Everett was capable of giving. _Shit!_

_***********************************************************************_

They were all sitting around the waiting room several hours later when a frazzled man in a lab coat and carrying files, approached their group asking shyly for Jennifer Taylor.

She stood up, immediately followed by Justin, Everett, and Cynthia. He gave her a questioning look to which she responded, “Brian would want them to know.”

“I am Dr. Anders, the Head of Emergency Services here, and I would like you to accompany me to speak to Brian, then if he wants you to share, you can. But I have to have his express permission first.”

Emotions around the room ran the full spectrum, from mild humor to terror. No one was sure if Brian could handle any more bad news, and absolutely no one wanted to deal with the fall out that might ensue if it was indeed more bad news.

Dr. Anders picked up on the feelings instantly and did his best to diffuse the worst of the emotions by smiling and reassuring them that there was nothing to worry about.

Jennifer squeezed Justin’s hand in support, then followed the dark skinned man into Brian’s room. She had expected him to be sleeping, but was not surprised to find him watching the news. He did not even look their way, eyes fixed on the screen mounted on the wall opposite of his bed. His face was passive, but his jaw clenched and fury rolled off him in waves. Dr. Anders took an unconscious step backwards, nearly colliding with Jennifer, when Brian turned to see who had invaded his privacy.

Switching off the television, he said “Jennifer, please tell Cynthia and Everett that the game is up. I am on the news, and not in a good way.” Jennifer ducked back out to follow orders.

Dr. Anders cleared his throat and stuck out a hand in Brian’s direction, introducing himself as it was shaken. Brian paused, thinking the man looked familiar and wondering if he had fucked the guy, then pushed that thought away as the good doctor was entirely too old to be a past trick, not to mention the fact that he was straight as an arrow. Still, the sense of déjà vu, stuck with him.

Dr. Anders took a seat near the bed, and having no way to introduce his topic of conversation, decided it was best to just spit it out and let the chips fall where they would.

“You may not remember, Mr. Kinney, but we have met before.”

Brian’s eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing.

“You were admitted several times, as a child, to the Catholic hospital I was working in for my residency.”

Brian’s face clouded over, but he remained silent. Dr. Anders wasn’t sure if he should proceed, but Jennifer’s return spurred him to continue. He handed Brian a dark brown folder at least two inches thick, but Brian did not open it.

“That is the file the hospital kept on you. I retrieved it to compare with your current file, to ascertain if you were the same Brian Kinney I treated some twenty five years ago. From the x-rays that were taken when you were admitted here I concluded that you were. Do you remember me at all?”

Brian ran his hand lightly over the folder, nodding once, but not looking at the other occupants of the room.

“I have to say Brian, that I am supremely surprised you are here. What I mean is… I never expected to find you… uh…” Dr. Anders gave an uncomfortable sigh, not knowing how to finish his statement.

“I think the word you are looking for is…alive.” Brian’s tone was completely caustic as he twisted the knife and let it hang in the room, relishing the discomfort it engendered.

Jennifer’s hand covered her mouth but she refused to look away from him. Dr. Anders continued, still shaken, but resolved, “I was going to say whole, but alive works well enough I suppose.” He raked a hand through his hair and decided to get to the point of his visit.

“I guess I came here for…closure, so to speak. After the first time you were brought in, you were about six if memory serves, I made sure the entire staff knew that I was to be contacted if you were ever brought in again. I made a point of being the one to treat you every time, even if they had to call me in on an off day.”

Jennifer glanced again at the folder in Brian’s lap. The edges worn and frayed from repeated use, as were the multitude of papers stacked within. Her brain knew what it meant, but her heart did not want to believe it. “Why you?” she asked.

Dr. Anders gave her a sad smile, “Because I knew he was being abused and I wanted to help. I foolishly thought that if I could get enough evidence I could get him free. When he was nine I ,even more foolishly, thought that by telling his parents what I was doing, they would stop. I guess they did, for a while, I didn’t see him again for almost a year when a stranger brought him in. He was so broken, I was not sure he would live. He was hospitalized for a month, then I never saw him again.”

 He stood and began pacing in frustration. “Back then, they didn’t have child services like they have now. Evidence had to be overwhelming, or witnessed first-hand, and even that was no guarantee of intervention. I tried the cops, social workers, even the church. By the time I had badgered them enough to investigate, he was gone. His whole family moved to another city. No one knew where. I spent the next two years looking, hoping he would turn up, even if it was another visit to the hospital.”

Brian’s jaw clenched, he could think of a couple of people who knew, but they had been friends of Jack’s so would have covered his ass if anyone had come to them looking for the Kinney family.

“I was devastated, never knowing what had happened, feeling guilty, wondering if you…” Dr. Anders cut himself off.

“You wondered if he had finally managed to kill me.” Brian gave him a harsh smile that never reached his eyes.

Dr. Anders just nodded and stopped pacing to look at him squarely. “I came tonight, to tell you I’m sorry. Sorry for not doing better, being faster, not finding you, but mostly I am sorry for not making it stop.”

Brian flinched and dropped his eyes to the folder again. “What makes you think it didn’t?”

The second, newer folder, was placed on top of the old, as Dr. Anders said “Because I know it didn’t.”

Stormy moss green eyes met soft brown ones accompanied by a glimmer of a smile, “Sorry is bullshit, Doc. Besides, that which does not kill us only makes us stronger, right?”

Dr. Anders was engulfed by the memory of saying that exact quote to a ten year old Brian, trying to get him to want to live, the last time he had treated him. Pulling himself back to the present, he extended his hand again, and Brian took it, clasping it firmly and friendly, allowing his eyes to tell the doctor that he could let himself off the hook, there were no hard feelings on his part.

Dr. Anders nodded once, then told them he would be taking over Brian’s care if there were no objections and left, the door swishing closed in the silence.

*********************************************************

 Melanie was furious. She did her best to hide it from the kids, but after snapping at them the fourth time at dinner, decided it would be best for everyone if she let them spend the night at a friend’s house. Making the arrangements, however, proved difficult, as she had a particularly hard time keeping the animosity out of her voice. Thankfully, Janet figured it was just stress and offered to pick up Gus and Jenny.

Once the kids were gone, Melanie attacked the phone, trying first Lindsay’s cell phone, then her office phone. Getting no answer at either, she finally opted to call Brian. Justin answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Justin? It’s Melanie. I was trying to get a hold of Brian, can I talk to him?”

Justin hesitated, not sure if Brian would be capable of speaking to anyone in his current state.

“Uh, he’s kinda busy Mel. Is there something I can do to help?”

Melanie really did not want to air their laundry, and certainly not on the phone, but Lindsay had not really left her with another option.

“It’s just, uh, Lindsay said she had to go out of town for a couple of days, and it was last minute, so I didn’t get to talk to her about it and I was wondering if Brian had heard from her or knew what was going on.”

Justin’s stomach sank. Lindsay was not known for taking off without a plan, and Justin was certain that if it really was business then Melanie would have been given the details. “Listen, Mel, I will give Brian the message and have him call you back, Okay?”

Melanie was less than pleased with that, but it was better than nothing, so she thanked him then let him off the phone. She slid limply into the couch and prayed her wife was not doing something stupid.

***************************************************************

 “But she said he asked her for a baby!” Michael was pushing his chicken satay around on his plate, oblivious to his husband’s stare.

“So? I happen to think he is a good father, and very accommodating of the circumstances. Why shouldn’t he want another baby?” Ben could not quite understand Michael’s aversion to the idea.

“Why? Because he has never been a full-time parent, let alone a single parent. Besides, with all the hours he puts in with Kinnetik and all the screwing around, how is he going to raise it? He would have to hire help, then what would be the point?” Michael seemed to have put a lot of thought into it and Ben could not come up with a reasonable argument to disabuse him of any of his concerns.

“The only thing I can say is… it really is not our decision.” Ben offered diplomatically.

“Not our…Jesus! Ben. It’s a crazy idea and you know it!”

Ben could see that Michael was just getting started and settled in for the long haul. He knew any more comments or observations would be summarily tossed aside, and all Michael really wanted was a captive audience.

Still, something niggled at the back of his mind as he listened with only half an ear.

_What had Lindsay been doing in Pittsburgh anyway?_

_**********************************************************_

 Justin let himself into Brian’s room after he saw the doctor leave, hoping to get a better idea of what was going on with him. Unfortunately, he was just in time to see Brian hand two folders to his mother and disappear into the bathroom.

Jennifer gave him a hesitant smile, stroked his cheek for a second and let herself out.

_Shit!_

He wasn’t going to get any information from her at the moment, so he made up his mind to get Brian to talk to him. He had put it off, in consideration of the circumstances and the obvious emotional turmoil Brian was suffering. It would not be the first time he had picked a fight with Brian when he was vulnerable in order to get him to admit something out loud that he would not otherwise admit, even to himself.

_So be it._

Justin braced the hard plastic chair under the handle of the exterior door, praying it would be enough to keep intruders out for the time it would take for the two of them to come to some kind of understanding.

Brian exited the bathroom and took notice of the blockaded door, immediately turning to Justin to question the need. It was unnecessary though, Brian could read the stubborn lines of his partner’s body as easily as he could feel the confrontational vibe shimmering in the air around him.

_You knew you weren’t going to get out of this._

_Yeah, just didn’t want to do it here._

_Coward, you were stalling._

_Not stalling, just wanted to do this at home. Comfortable._

_No help for it now, he’s not going to let it go until you give him something._

_Yeah, I know._

Brian took his time, arranging himself comfortably in the upholstered chair Justin had been sleeping in that morning, and pulled the lever so he ended up in a semi-reclining position before gesturing Justin into his lap where his lover curled up, head tucked under Brian’s chin.

Over the years, this had become their default position for serious conversations and emotional admissions. It worked well for them, since Justin didn’t have to worry too much about showing his emotional state, causing Brian to close up, and Brian didn’t have to see (feel) the overwhelming emotions he was causing. A safe bubble, allowing closeness and comfort, while giving each of them the distance necessary to navigate the knotted threads of their relationship.

Brian immediately stuck his hand into Justin’s hair, a gesture that soothed or inflamed both of them, depending on the situation. He pushed for soothing this time, knowing it was going to be difficult to discuss the issue at hand.

Brian started slow, keeping his voice low and even, trying his best not to scare his boy.

“I have PTSD”.

Justin almost laughed at the absurdity. Of course he knew this. Had known it since his bashing. He drew circles on Brian’s exposed chest while he waited for Brian to continue.

“Who told you?” Brian’s tone hinted at betrayal, but Justin disabused him of that instantly. “One wolf recognizes the other, so they say.”

Brian’s hand stilled in Justin’s hair as he thought about that, then resumed sliding the strands between his fingers.

“It’s more than that, I think, but I’m not sure. I can’t control my thoughts sometimes, and I have an even harder time controlling what I say.”

Justin snorted in amusement, “Ya don’t say…”

Brian tugged his hair in punishment and Justin kissed the skin on Brian’s chest in apology.

“I don’t mean it…I do, but I don’t mean to hurt…people.” Brian was nearing a whisper.

Justin played with the tie of Brian’s bathrobe, letting it slip repeatedly through his hands.

“I don’t like not being in control.”

Justin snickered, not in a mean way, just that Brian felt it was not obvious and had to be stated. As if.

“I don’t want to see a doctor for it, anywhere close to where our family and friends are.”

Justin heard the fear underlying that statement and figured he had probably known that too, had he thought about it. Brian would not want an accidental meeting outside of a “head-shrinker’s” office with anyone that might know him and spread the gossip around town, be that here or Pittsburgh, so he nodded, unwittingly sending tufts of hair up Brian’s nose as he had chosen that moment to kiss the top of Justin’s head, causing him to snarfle and rear his head back away from the offending strands.

Justin, concerned by the sound, sat up and caught Brian with his nose wrinkled in distaste and his lips pursed. Thinking something was seriously wrong, concern burning in his gaze, he said “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.”

Justin was unconvinced, and Brian, seeing the queen out coming a mile away, hastened to reassure his mate. “Just got some of your fucking hair up my nose.” He did his best to keep his expression neutral as Justin searched his face for some glimmer of a lie. The moment dragged on, finally forcing Brian to nudge Justin back to his former position so he could finish this torment and get on with his life. Or what would be left of it.

Justin spoke first.

“Why didn’t you tell me you picked my mom?” He asked it casually enough, but Brian was not a fool, and he had been with Justin long enough to hear the unasked question. _Why didn’t you pick me?_

Sticking to the easier, verbal, question he replied “Because she would do what she had to do, even if she didn’t like it.”

Justin paused in his stroking of Brian’s chest, hearing the silent answer, _Because I couldn’t burden you with that._

Justin’s words were soft, “Like when she gave me to you?”

“mmm”

Justin knew Brian had pulled his lips into his mouth even though he couldn’t see it.

“How long had you been planning this?” Justin was pretty sure of the answer to this one, but he needed to hear it anyway.

Brian took a deep breath, let it out, and briefly considered lying to him, before mentally shaking himself. Justin was the last person he would ever lie to. Prevaricate, omit, dance around the issue maybe, but never lie.

“About nine months.” Brian held his breath, waiting for the explosive temper tantrum Justin was so good at. Hoping for it even, since it would serve to distract the younger man from the real issue, and Brian wouldn’t have to say it.

“That’s what I thought.”

Brian, for once, didn’t know what to say, given the lack of a bigger response. No biting comeback or pithy retort ready to combat the undeniable heaviness in his chest.

“Stop thinking so hard. You know I can read you almost as well as you read me. I am always shocked that you are so surprised by it.”

Brian could feel Justin’s grin against his neck, was infected by it really, and he let himself reciprocate it, tugging the blonde even closer. Justin let out a small sound of contentment that raced, inevitably to Brian’s groin.

“I can’t…”

“Hmmm” Justin nuzzled into Brian’s neck, inhaling his scent, the one that would forever drive him crazy with need.

“…walk away…” Brian’s head tilted back, eyes drifting shut, as Justin’s licked a wide stripe from his collarbone to just behind his ear. _Fucking tease. He doesn’t want to hear it any more than I want to say it. Fuck that feels good. Need to be inside, mark him, as mine._

“…need you…” Justin straddled his hips, grinding their erections together, letting out those mindless, needy, breathy pants that drove him insane.

Brian knew he was on the brink of not being able to think at all, but still needing Justin to hear him out, so it could be over.

“…to walk away…let me go.”

Justin stilled instantly, body quivering on the razor edge of lust and hurt.

Brian watched his feelings tumble over one another. The love, the pain, denial, love again, until it was just acceptance. Justin did the same, watching as Brian’s eyes begged for understanding, showed him how much he was loved, and how much it hurt to have to ask.

Justin cradled Brian’s head between his hands, absently brushing his hair back from his forehead before rubbing their noses together and kissing him deeply. Brian clasped the smaller body to him, wishing he had the use of both arms. Tongues tangling in wet heat, as Justin ground himself against the slim hips beneath him, both of them frustrated with the amount of clothes separating them. Justin bit into Brian’s lower lip before he shoved himself off Brian’s lap and pulled him to a standing position, claiming his mouth again and backing him toward the bed.

Brian fisted his hand in Justin’s shirt, pushing him away, then pulling him back in until sapphire eyes met his. “I need..”

Justin covered his mouth with little kisses, trailing them over his jaw, “I know…” sucking an earlobe into his mouth and releasing it with a wet pop. “I will.” Justin’s lips never left Brian’s skin as he removed the bathrobe and shucked his own clothes. Taking Brian’s face between his hands again, forcing him to look at him and see the love he felt.

“But not today.”

The words echoed in Brian’s head, and relief filled him to bursting. The anxiety he had carried, waiting for this moment of revelation, dissipated in the onslaught of the love he could see in Justin’s eyes and read in every motion of his lover’s body as he was caressed and stroked by slim, warm hands.

Brian still needed to clarify, for Justin, before he would allow himself to give in to what was so eagerly offered. Taking Justin’s chin and tipping the shorter man’s head back so he could see clearly he said, “No locks.”

Justin blinked, he understood Brian was giving him freedom, and he whispered “but not today.”

Skin pressed to skin, as mouth pressed to mouth, and they eased back onto the bed. Justin straddled Brian’s hips as he had in the chair, knowing Brian’s broken bones put him in a position of inability.

Justin leaned forward, rubbing their cocks together and using his tongue to fuck Brian’s mouth, making him moan and swallow convulsively. Brian ran his hand along the side of Justin’s face, stopping as he neared his jaw and slipping the thumb into the wet heat of his mouth, tugging on the lower teeth until his mouth was wide open baring the thick appendage for Brian’s questing eyes. Justin used it to lave Brian’s thumb, circling the tip with the point then swirling with the flat, soaking it with spit, all the while watching Brian watch his tongue. Hazel gave way to the ever widening black of pupils blown with lust. Justin closed his lips, capturing the thumb and sucking on it as hard as he could, adding pressure with his teeth, just enough to sting.

Brian drew in a shaky breath, eyes closing as Justin sucked greedily, quickening the pace of his hips to match. Justin watched as Brian arched beneath him, trying to gain the leverage he wanted and not finding it. Brian let out a growling moan that never ceased to inflame. Justin could get off just listening to it. Knowing they could be interrupted at any time, spurred him to use both hands, laced together, to grip their leaking cocks and squeeze them together, stroking them as if they were one big dick. Brian squirmed in delight and replaced his thumb with three fingers, pressing the wet thumb under Justin’s chin, forcing him to bite harder on the fingers in his mouth. Justin mewled, panting, as his stroking became more erratic and their balls slapped against each other. He knew Brian was close by the way he grunted and his abdominal muscles clenched. Justin’s testicles drew up as Brian’s neck and chest flushed red and his hips bucked with abandon.

“Fuck, Sunshine!”

Brian gripped the hands on his cock and squeezed as hard as he could while thrusting as wildly as his injuries would allow. Justin threw back his head, fucking their joined hands as Brian did the same, yelling out their mutual release as thick ropes of cum fountained from their hands to spread and drip from sweat covered torsos.

Justin slumped forward, unable to stay upright any longer. Chests heaving, sticky hands caressing, he finally slid to the side, a boneless heap, not caring that he smeared cum the whole way. Brian snickered as Justin almost immediately began to snore.

***********************************************************

 Emmett’s phone rang. He glanced at the name of the caller and excused himself from the group before answering. Making his way to the window at the end of the hall past Brian’s room, he took the call.

“Hey, thanks for calling me back.” He paused, listening.

“No, sweetie, I’m fine. Really, I just, uhm, need a favor. For a friend? He’s in really bad shape. I was hoping you still had the lodge?” He paused again, as the caller spoke, his stomach in knots.

“I’m not sure for how long, but I’ll send you some money and a list, if you could take care of stocking it, for maybe a month?”

Another pause, this one longer than the others, causing him to cross his arms and slide down the wall.

“Yeah, I’m coming too.”

“I know.”

“I have to.”

“No, don’t tell them anything.”

Emmett dragged in a wet breath, hoping he could keep the tears at bay until the call was over.

“Then I will cross that bridge when I have to. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, but the tears leaked out anyway.

“I know. Thanks. I love you too.”

Emmett ended the call, hugged his legs to his chest and let the tears fall in earnest.

*********************************************************

  _I’m standing here in front of Mercy Hospital, where an anonymous source has indicated that Brian Kinney, owner of Kinnetik Korp., is fighting for his life after a tragic accident aboard the Crown Princess during his annual fundraiser for the homeless._

_It is unknown at this time, the nature of the accident, only that Mr. Kinney arrived in a MediVac helicopter, very early Sunday morning. He was not breathing and at some point his heart stopped beating. It is unclear if there will be any lasting damage and there have been no statements from a representative of Kinnetik Korp._

_We will do our best to keep you updated on this breaking news, this is Carrie Beldon, channel eight news._

 

Cynthia used the remote to turn the television off, then threw it at the wall, breaking the plastic casing.

Emmett was glad to see her finally lose her temper, and casually stepped in front of Everett as he tried to get near her. Cynthia turned, took in the two men, and strode down the hallway, disappearing around the corner.

“What the fuck, Emmett?” Everett tried to step around him again and Emmett put a hand in his chest to forestall him.

“Answer me one question, dearie. Do you think she is anything like Brian?”

Everett took his time thinking about it, and sank into the nearest chair, scratching at the stubble on his face, defeated. Emmett sat next to him and gave a few commiserating pats on his back.

Jennifer watched as Lara and Marc texted furiously, eyeing the now suspect hospital workers the whole time.

*********************************************************

 Sam and Bobby watched the newscast from their desks at the precinct. When it was over, neither spoke as they gathered their weapons and made their way out of the building. Sam went straight for her personal car, rather than the police cruiser, and Bobby slid into the passenger seat as the engine roared to life. Neither was looking forward to another visit with Mr. Kinney, but now that the cat was out of the bag, they had no other choice.

 It was looking to be another all-nighter.

*****************************************************

 Jennifer sat alone on the wide window ledge at the end of Brian’s hallway. She was reluctant to open the folders he had given her. She had a very good idea of what they would contain. She also knew, once read, they could never be unread. The information they contained would forever be a part of her. She didn’t know how it could affect her relationship with Brian, only that it would. She was sure she would want to coddle him, pity him, feel sorry for him. All the things he hated most and avoided like the plague.

_How can I get him the care he needs without knowing?_

That was the million dollar question.

The answer was simple enough.

_I can’t._

She would just have to make sure she never let the knowledge show. By giving her the folders, he had given her his trust. Trusting her to protect the child he had been and the man he had become. Trusted her to give, or keep, the information from her son. Trusting her with the truth of the real person behind the many masks he wore. Trusting her to have the courage to bear the burden with him and not falter under the weight.

*****************************************************

Lindsay was on the highway, at the outskirts New York City, when she heard the announcement on the radio. She pulled to the shoulder and flipped on the hazard lights as she impatiently waited for the news to repeat thirty minutes later. Noting the name of the hospital, she programmed it into the navigational device suction-cupped to the dash, and pulled back onto the highway.

She ignored the ringing phone in the console.

 

 

Michael was on the phone the instant after the reporter said Brian’s name. His call went straight to voicemail, his own phone signaling an incoming call, before he finished leaving a message. Ben thought that his husband was the only person he knew that could sound completely furious and scared to death at the same time.

Michael switched to the new call, expecting it to be his mother, and was not disappointed. There followed a conversation of raised voices and increasing alarm as they fed off each other’s fear, and surmising worst case scenarios.

Ben laid his hands on Michael’s shoulders in an effort to get him to calm down, but Michael shrugged him off and moved into the kitchen, entirely focused on his terrified rant.

Michael didn’t even notice when Ben went to bed without him.

******************************************************

 Carl knew the shit had hit the fan, when he checked his phone and had a dozen missed calls in the last two hours. Fully half were from Debbie, a few from Michael, and one from Melanie. The last to come in was from Everett Ryker.

Whether he was stalling or not, could be debated, but he called Ryker back first, telling himself it was better to have all the facts before going home.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

                Run away with me.

                J.M. Barrie

 

 

Brian had not seen the movie Mary Poppins until Gus was three and it had become his son’s newest obsession. He had heard of it, of course, but nothing had prepared him to see it. Gus had come to spend the weekend at the loft and Brian had unzipped the boy’s coat to find the movie safely stowed against his chest. When he shot the girls a questioning look, Mel had rolled her eyes, and Lindsay shrugged as if to say “Who knows?”.

Later on that evening he had parked Gus on the rug to watch the movie, while he finished working at his desk. His son’s delighted laughter had prompted him to forgo work and sit next to him on the floor. Gus’s happy squeal when Mary began pulling the large standing lamp from her carpet bag was very much like how Brian now felt when he managed to find his old, worn out, super soft pajama pants in the giant duffle bag Jennifer had been digging in since his first morning at the hospital.

He struggled a bit to get them on one-handed, but once they were finally hugging his hips, a contented sigh slipped from his lips. _Who would have thought an old piece of clothing could make you feel whole?_

For the first time in days, he felt like himself. Digging around in the bag produced a pack of cigarettes (thank God), a box of condoms (he snorted), and the well-worn copy of The Man In The Iron Mask (how did she know?).

He stuck the smokes and his cell phone into the pocket of his robe, covered Justin with the blanket (so his bare ass wouldn’t greet whoever happened to walk in the door), and laid his lover’s clothes on the end of the bed. Moving the chair blockading the door, he took a deep breath to try to settle his thoughts, and stepped into the hall.

Emmett saw him first, and surprise gave way to the second-most sunshiney smile Brian had ever seen. Everett noticed him a moment later, concern marring his brow until he schooled it away and stood.

“I am going out for a smoke.” Brian announced and started off down the hall as if he owned the place.

There was a mad scramble to catch up as Everett, Lara, and Marc dashed after him with Emmett’s laughter ringing in their ears.

********************************************************** 

Carl glanced at the clock on the wall of his office. Eleven-thirty.

He wondered, briefly, if he could get away with staying at the precinct all night and dealing with Debbie in the morning. Shaking his head, he knew that would only make things worse, as she was most likely still waiting up for him to get home. Better to get it over with now and secure her help before the rest of the family got too out of line. He figured it would be best to talk to everyone else after Debbie understood what she could and could not say to them. Carl had never asked her to keep a secret before, was not really sure he should now, but someone had to help him keep control of the reins in Pittsburgh and he didn’t think Ted was tough enough to do it alone.

Eyeballing the clock again, Carl shut down his computer, grabbed his coat, and headed home.

 ********************************************************

Sam shifted her briefcase to the other hand and Bobby eyed her quizzically.

“What?” she huffed.

“Just been a long time since I’ve seen you nervous.” He only half-teased.

“Not nervous. Just don’t want to set him off again.” She continued to stare at the elevator doors.

Struck with an insight, Bobby said “You like him.”

Sam harrumphed “Not like that, just…”

Bobby could understand her confusion, since he had carried it with him since their earlier meeting.

“Something in your gut says he needs protecting.”

Sam glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Yeah, but it’s more than that.”

“Well he _is_ extremely good-looking.”

Sam was shaking her head before he finished saying it.

“Not that. Something else. More primal… I think.”

It had been a very long time since his partner had been this concerned about someone involved in one of their cases.

“What’s more primal than sex?” Bobby really wanted to understand.

“Don’t know yet, it just feels like…potential?” Sam wasn’t even sure that word described it either but dropped the conversation as the doors opened on the eighth floor.

 ************************************************

Lindsay strode purposefully to the information desk at the hospital currently manned by a young brunette that barely looked old enough to drink. Her nametag shouted, Pamela, in bright pink lettering. Lindsay set her purse on the counter and unbuttoned her coat.

“Hello, Pamela, could you give me directions to Mr. Kinney’s room please.”

Pamela paled noticeably and began typing into her computer. When she paused, she asked “Can I have your name please?”

“Lindsay Peterson.”

Pamela scanned the list of names the big scary man had left with her earlier, not finding anyone named Peterson anywhere. Bile rose in her throat. As if the big scary man hadn’t been enough, he had been followed up an hour later by the Terrifying Lady that threatened her life if anyone not on the list made it to Mr. Kinney’s floor.

Pamela swallowed convulsively and said, “I am truly sorry, Ms. Peterson, but you are not on the list of approved guests, so I am not allowed to give you that information.”

Lindsay had not expected to be turned away and was momentarily at a loss for words. Sizing up the youngster, she decided to try and bluff her way past this obstacle.

Putting on her best manners she smiled “I am the mother of Mr. Kinney’s only child, and I need to see him right away. Please, I am sure he would want to see me.”

Pamela, for all that she was sure that might be the case, didn’t ever want to be on the wrong side of the Terrifying Lady. “I am sorry, but I was given a list, and you are not on it.” Then she whispered, hoping to engender some sympathy, “It’s my job, if I let you up there.”

The pained expression on Pamela’s face told Lindsay she would get nothing else from her, so she gave her a tight little smile and left, determined to find another way to get to Brian.

Pamela hadn’t cared one whit for the so-called smile, and to safeguard her job she called the number the big scary man had left, just in case.

 **********************************************************

Dr. Anders was sitting in his office, staring at his desk phone, willing it to ring. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night. The e-mail he had sent, hoping to get Brian the help he needed, would either precipitate a questioning phone call or it would be ignored completely. Such was the nature of the woman he had contacted. He told himself, if he didn’t hear anything within the hour, he would check on Brian one more time then go home and get some much needed sleep.

He was drifting on the edges of slumber, head tilted back into his chair, when the call came at three-twenty-six in the morning.

 Brian was on his last nerve. All he could think about was a cigarette. He didn’t care that it was cold outside. He didn’t care that he wasn’t dressed for the weather. He didn’t care that it was a non-smoking facility. He didn’t care that he didn’t have shoes on. He didn’t care that everyone meant well. He didn’t care it was the middle of the night. He didn’t care that he wasn’t supposed to be out of his room and he most especially didn’t care about the furor he was causing amongst the hospital staff.

His hands were shaking, so he shoved them into the pockets of his robe. His head was pounding. Acid was rolling in his stomach, threatening to override his control. He wanted to scream when someone draped a heavy pea coat over his shoulders and pressed him into a wheelchair. He wanted to tear his hair out when a blanket was tucked around his legs. He wanted to maim whoever it was that tugged a knitted cap down over his ears. He hated it when people felt they could touch him without his express permission to do so.

Anger welled. Vicious, evil thoughts, raced around his brain in circuitous loops of bloodshed. He braced his elbow on the armrest of the wheelchair and settled his chin into his palm, effectively covering his mouth with his fingers. Physically keeping his tirade behind his teeth. He tried to summon the will to hold it back long enough to gain what he so desperately wanted. A cigarette.

_Is that really too much to ask?_

Everett’s phone rang, and before he could answer it, Brian said “Lindsay” and shuddered.

The big man stepped away to take the call, as Brian was wheeled outside.

 ***************************

Lindsay had stopped in front of a large placard listing the different areas of the hospital. She figured her best bet would the patient rooms on levels seven, eight and nine. Deciding to start on seven and look for someone she recognized or catch his name on one of the doors, she pushed the button on the elevator.

When she stepped out, she immediately recognized the floor for what it was. The happy, pastel décor, with little feet painted on the wall of the long hallway, made it the maternity ward. Taking as a sign, an omen, she wandered past the waiting room. Brian would not be on this floor, but what would be the harm in looking?

It was not long before she was standing in front of a big window allowing her to see all the newborns in their little clear plastic beds. Most of the infants were sleeping, tiny mouths making sucking movements as they dreamed. Lindsay took the time to spend a few minutes studying each baby. There were so many! All of them wrapped up in the hospital blanket of white and blue stripes. All of them like baby burritos. All of them adorable. Dark skin, light skin, some with hair and some without. All of them beautiful.

Lindsay took it as a sign, an omen.

 *******************************

Carl made as little noise as possible, as he unlocked the front door and let himself in. Seeing Debbie on the couch with Michael he realized he should not have bothered. Closing the door behind him and hanging up his coat he went to the kitchen and made three short glasses of bourbon and carried them back to the living room.

Passing one to each of his companions he sat on the coffee table to face them.

“Brian had an accident, the night of the fundraiser, and he has been in the hospital since.”

Carl sipped his drink as Debbie and Michael began talking over each other, trying to get him to answer their questions.

Debbie, seeing the look on Carl’s face, put a restraining hand on Michael’s knee until he quieted.

Carl stared into his glass for a moment before continuing. “He has a couple of broken bones, arm and collarbone, but he will be okay.”

Debbie eyed him suspiciously.

“He nearly drowned, had hypothermia, but seems to be doing a lot better now. He will probably be released in the next couple of days.”

“Why didn’t he call me, let me know what was going on?” Michael interjected heatedly.

“From what I am being told, he hasn’t spoken to anyone. Didn’t want anyone to know, come rushing to the hospital. You know how he is.” Carl hoped it was an adequate explanation.

Michael seemed to take it at face value, nodding his head and rolling his eyes.

“Anyway, I have been told he is going to take a vacation, to heal up, before he makes anymore plans. Cynthia and Ted have the company in hand, it seems, and Brian doesn’t want to stick around. He has asked that everyone leave him alone for a while, but if you have an emergency, he asked that you get a hold of Cynthia and she will let him know. For now I think it best to honor his wishes, let him get better.”

Carl looked pointedly at Michael as he said the last, and noted that he at least had the good grace to blush. It didn’t stop his mouth, though.

“Lindsay told me he asked her for a baby! Can you believe that shit? How the hell is he going to take care of a baby?” Shaking his head in disapproval he sipped his bourbon.

Carl figured that would be the least of Brian’s problems at this juncture, but pointed out the obvious anyway. “I really don’t think that is any of _our_ business. Probably best not to bring it up or comment on it if it is mentioned.” He swallowed the last of his drink, giving Debbie a look over the rim of his glass.

“Michael, honey, you should go home. Brian is going to be okay, so we can stop worrying. He will be good as new in no time, and I am sure, as soon as he feels better, he’ll call you. Best that we leave him be for now.” She patted his cheek and gave him a smile before tugging him to his feet and all but shoving him out the front door. She leaned back against it for a moment, then resumed her seat on the couch and knocked back her bourbon in one gulp.

Taking both of her lover’s hands in hers, and using the low voice she reserved for solemn occasions, she said “Now, Carl Horvath, you will tell me what the fuck is really going on.”

“Debbie, I can’t…”

“Don’t give me shit about how you can’t talk about an investigation, or Brian wants his privacy, Brian doesn’t _ask_ for anything. I can keep a secret… for thirty years if I have to.”

Carl had to give her that, she had kept Michael’s paternity a secret for that long and he knew it. He also knew she would not give up wanting to know the truth. Brian was one of her “Lost Boys”, probably her favorite if truth be told, so he hoped she would keep this one.

“It wasn’t an accident, Red.” Debbie had figured as much, so only nodded.

“Someone tried to kill him. Twice. I don’t have all the details, yet, and couldn’t give them to you if I did. I am outside the investigation, but Brian’s head of security let me know in case something led back here.”

“Do you know who did it?”

Carl nodded, “Caught the fucker right away. Everett said he was naked, if you can believe it.”

“It figures.” Debbie said and they both chuckled, letting the tension drain away.

Carl debated what to say next, but Debbie spoke first. “It’s not over, is it Carl.” Not a question.

“No, Red, I don’t think it is.”

Carl moved to sit next to her and she leaned into his side. “You can’t retire now, knowing there is still a threat.”

Carl loved a lot of things about Debbie, her big mouth, big heart, and most of all the fact that she wasn’t stupid.

******************************** 

 

Marc had managed to find a very small courtyard outside one of the many fire exit doors on the ground level of the hospital. It was barely larger than a bathroom, but it was covered by the floor above and surrounded by an ugly cinderblock wall on two sides. He had arranged (by flirting) to have the alarm disconnected, so Brian could get his nicotine fix, and still be in a relatively easy position to defend, if need be.

Marc wheeled him through the door and set the brake on the chair taking note that Brian still seemed to be in the trance that had started when they parked his ass in the chair in the first place. He looked terrible. His eyes were dark and glassy, pupils blown wide. He had an unhealthy pallor to his skin that the growing beard couldn’t hide, and the dark circles under his eyes were now creeping to the lids as well and making it look like he came out on the wrong side of a prize fight.

Trying to snap him out of it, Marc went fishing for Brian’s cigarette pack, ignoring the way Brian flinched when his hand grazed Brian’s thigh below the pocket. Squatting in front of the chair, he dug out the pack, and searched the other pocket for a lighter. Brian sat up straighter and rubbed his palm over the fabric of his pants. Then he did it again…and again.

“Don’t have a light.” Each word enunciated slowly, like they were new, or foreign.

“’Kay, be right back. So, don’t go anywhere.” Marc stood up, went for the door.

“Only Paris in the springtime.” Brian said when the door closed. He pulled the coat tighter around him “You can come out now Noah.”

The shadow of the man in question appeared from around the end of the wall furthest from where Brian was seated. As he entered the small pool of light from overhead he fished a lighter from his pocket and waited as Brian shook a cigarette from the pack and placed it between his lips.

“How’d you know I was here?” he asked as he lit the cigarette and gestured to the pack on Brian’s lap.

Brian took a hefty drag, exhaling slowly and handed over the pack for Noah to help himself.

“Marc would not have left me unguarded.” Another drag, letting his eyes close, to better savor the flavor. Another rub of the fabric.

“True, but how did you know it was me? I could have been any one of a dozen people he has here.”

“Lucky guess.” Brian didn’t bother to open his eyes.

“What color am I?”

It was a true telling of just how out of it Brian really was when he answered immediately without thinking about it first. “Orange, micro-suede.”

“And Marc?” Noah was hoping he was still cooperative.

“Navy. Ocean waves.”

“Everett?”

Brian took another long drag, stroking his thigh when he answered “Black. Shiny mirror.”

Marc came back out, and Brian shot Noah a look that promised dire consequences if he said anything.

***********************************

_Date: Nov. 1, 1977_

_Patient: Brian Kinney (M)                      Age:6_

_Reason for Visit: Fall down stairs. (Mother states)_

_Attending Physician: Dr. Anders_

_Diagnosis: Broken ulna (R)_

_Split lip, lower_

_Multiple contusions, lacerations, located mid to upper torso and back._

_Medication: Tylenol, antiseptic wash. Plaster cast._

_Date: Dec. 25, 1977_

_Patient: Brian Kinney (M)       Age:6_

_Reason for Visit: Fall from Bicycle (Mother states)_

_Attending Physician: Dr. Anders_

_Diagnosis: Concussion_

_Recast arm, not re-broken._

_Splinters removed from both knees, heels of both hands_

_Black eye, (L)_

_Medication: Tylenol after 48 hours, antiseptic wash_

_Date: Feb. 14, 1978_

_Patient: Brian Kinney (M)     Age:6_

_Reason for Visit: Fight at School (Mother states)_

_Diagnosis: Scalp laceration, four stitches_

_Fractured orbital bone, brow (L)_

_Contusions eye (L)_

_Date: Mar. 17, 1978_

_Patient: Brian Kinney (M)       Age: 6_

_Reason for Visit: Fell from tree (Mother states)_

_Diagnosis: Fractured skull (Minor)_

_Whiplash_

_Nosebleed_

_Contusions, upper arms (both)_

_Date: Jul. 4, 1978_

_Patient: Brian Kinney (M)     Age: 7_

_Reason for Visit: unstated_

_Diagnosis: Severe alcohol poisoning_

_Aug. 1978     Fractured left foot_

_Sept. 1978   Fractured ribs (LOWER 3)_

_Nov. 1978   Dislocated shoulder (left)_

_Contusions, upper left arm and neck_

_Dec. 1978   Sprained ankle (right)_

_Contusions, calf and shin, right leg_

_Mar. 1979 Fractured lower jaw, (Left)_

_Contusions jaw (Left)_

_Laceration, jaw (Left) four stitches_

_Jul. 1979   Broken ribs (Lower 2) (left)_

_Black eye (left)_

_Dec. 1979 Concussion, unconscious_

_Mar. 1980 Multiple contusions/lacerations (40% body)_

_Malnourished, underweight, jaundiced_

_Sep. 1980 Sprained wrist (Left)_

_Dislocated thumb (Left)_

_Feb. 1981 Broken ulna (right)_

_May 1981 Broken fingers (8-3(R), 5(L))_

_Broken ribs (lower 6 (R))_

_Broken Jaw (lower (R))_

_Bruised kidneys, spleen, gall bladder_

_Blunt force trauma to skull, hairline fracture cheekbone (R)_

_Multiple lacerations, contusions (90% body)_

_Presented in shock on admission_

 

Jennifer couldn’t read any more. Didn’t _want_ to read anymore. Prayed to God, she didn’t have to read any more.

 ******************************

“Give me what you have so far” the voice on the phone said.

Dr. Anders smiled, she was straight to the point, as always.

“My best guess, long standing untreated PTSD, traumatic brain injury, excessive fight or flight reflex, sleeping and waking terrors, near disabling anxiety, uncontrollable emotional outbursts, highly addictive personality consisting of but most likely not limited to drugs and alcohol. Displays some dissociative behavior. Narcissistic, high achiever. Abused physically and/or emotionally as a young child through early adulthood. Probably a whole host of other problems I am not qualified to diagnose. He hates shrinks or anything resembling therapy. So I’m told. Resents authority, and anything close to pity. Emotionally repressed. Some paranoia and extroverted sexual prowess.”

“Jesus, Anders, he sounds like the Anti-Christ. Dope him, and put him away.”

“Can’t do that Ladybug, I really think you can help him. Please.”

A long suffering sigh in which he knew she was chewing on her lip.

“He was the victim of an assault a couple of days ago. Attempted murder.”

“Shit. Is he dangerous?”

“No, I don’t believe so. Just really, really needs someone on his side.”

There was a full two minutes of silence, where he thought she had hung up on him followed by “This the one that got away?”

“Yep”

“Send me everything you have, I’ll take a look, but no promises.”

He let his grin spread and before he could thank her, she did hang up on him.

 ***************************

Justin rolled over and felt a wash of air across his groin as the blanket slipped away. Laying his arm to the side, he realized he was in the bed alone. Pushing up to his elbow he called out for Brian, thinking he was in the bathroom, but the ensuing silence spoke for itself. He dressed quickly, slipping his feet into his shoes but not bothering to tie them, he left the room.

Emmett was propped in a chair in the corner of the waiting room snoring softly. A glance to the left, showed his mother sitting on the window ledge, closing a brown folder. He only made it a few feet in her direction before he realized how upset she was. She was shivering, and on the verge of tears.

He walked faster, folding her into a hug as soon as he could reach her.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, really honey. I’ll be okay.” She gave him what Brian called her “brave” smile, and he knew she was anything but fine.

Justin eyed the folders, sure that whatever they contained was the source of his mother’s emotional stress. He reached for the one on top, but Jennifer stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“No, Justin.”

He was about to argue, but the haunted look she carried left him unable to form the words. He hugged her again, until the shivering stopped, then asked after Brian.

“I think they took him outside for a while.”

Justin smiled, probably not for the fresh air.

Jennifer declined his offer of coffee and told him she needed to be alone for a little while longer, but that he needn’t worry about her. He knew she wouldn’t talk about it until she was ready, if ever, so he went back to Brian’s room and grabbed his tattered art bag. He sat cross-legged on the floor at the coffee table in the waiting room and began to draw.

That was how Sam and Bobby found him. Engrossed as he was they took the moment to watch him work.

“Taylor.” Bobby said.

Sam nodded, even if they had not seen pictures of him in the file, they would have picked him out anyway. Only someone as exuberantly in the moment could ever have a chance of holding their own with Brian Kinney for any length of time. Taylor fairly oozed openness and sex appeal.

Sam took the floor across the table from him and Bobby sat in the chair behind her. It was several moments before Justin noticed they were there.

“Sorry, I tend to get swallowed up when I find a groove.” His smile was hesitant but open.

“S’all right, I understand the inclination, especially when the subject is so beautiful.” Sam glanced at the sketch. “May I?”

Justin leaned back, massaging his hand as she turned the pad to look at it right side up. It was a sketch of Brian, head tilted back, eyes hooded, mouth slightly parted, the tendons in his neck standing out. Passion leapt from the page, and the viewer could easily imagine the orgasm that surely followed seconds after the snippet of time he had captured on the page.

Sam slid it back to Justin. “Mr. Taylor, my name is Sam, and this is Bobby. We would like to ask you some questions, if that would be all right.”

“Sure, I don’t know how much help I can be, since I wasn’t here, but I’ll try.” Justin leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table.

“How long have you known Mr. Kinney?”

Justin grinned, “Since I was seventeen.”

“Have you ever witnessed Mr. Kinney have a physical altercation, a fight? In that time?”

“Yes. My father attacked him the same year we met, hit him with the car, though I didn’t see that, and Brian gave his best friend a black eye at a party. To this day I don’t know what started that, but I would assume Michael said something negative about me.”

Bobby took notes as Sam continued with the questions.

“Can you think of anyone that might want to harm Mr. Kinney, for any reason?”

Both investigators were nonplussed by the sheer wattage of the smile Justin hit them with.

“Most people just want to fuck him, not fuck him up. But sure, there are a lot of people that think he is an asshole for one reason or another. He doesn’t appear to have a filter when it comes to his opinions, and he is not afraid to let you know exactly what he thinks in any given situation. He lives unapologetically, and he is an extremely successful gay man that doesn’t even pretend to try and hide it. He has turned down plenty of people for plenty of reasons, in his business and his social life. So, yeah, I’m positive there are legions of people that don’t like him.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, “You make it sound like no one should like him.”

Justin gave them a smile that was bigger and brighter than the first.

“You can’t help but like him. Because he is unapologetic, and calls bullshit when he hears it or sees it. He is loyal to a fault, and helps everyone he can, though he would deny it if confronted. He is shameless and blameless, and knows more about the people around him than they will ever be allowed to know about him. He is emotionally stunted, because to let it grow would mean he wouldn’t have control. He loves me and I love him, and I wouldn’t change a thing about him.”

Bobby’s mouth was hanging open and his pen had stalled. Sam cleared her throat and nudged his knee as she opened her briefcase.

“Would you mind looking at these mugshots and telling me if you recognize anyone?”

Justin took his time, committing each face to memory, before sliding them back and shaking his head. “Sorry, no.”

Sam collected them and put them away.

“You said you were not at the fundraiser, why is that?”

Justin crossed his arms over his chest. “Brian and I had a disagreement. I went to Pittsburgh to cool off.”

“It was a costume party, were you going to be his assistant, before Mr. Honeycutt?”

“No, Brian and I were going to go as the “Spy vs. Spy” characters. He was gonna be the Black and I was gonna be the White.”

“Why didn’t he go in the costume he already had?”

“Brian? Go as half of a duo? No way, he would consider it the epitome of tacky, though you will have to ask him to be sure.” Justin chortled.

“When did you find out he had been hurt?”

“When I arrived outside of our apartment building, I was told there was an accident and I was driven here, where I learned the full extent of his injuries. I haven’t left since.”

“Would you know if he had any ties to a gang, or associations with gang members?”

“I would and no he doesn’t.”

“Has he ever physically harmed you in any way?” Justin gave her a knowing smile, pouring on the sex appeal, “Not that I haven’t consented to and thoroughly enjoyed.”

“Thank you, Mr. Taylor..”

“Call me Justin, please.”

“Justin then, can we call you if we have more questions?” Sam rose and extended her hand, giving him her business card.

Justin took it and tucked it into the outside pocket of his bag while he nodded. “Anytime.”

************************************************************************************

Lindsay stepped from the elevator and turned left. She checked the names posted next to the doors on the left side until she reached the end of the hall and turned to make her way back up the right. Still no Kinney. She passed the elevators, the nurses station, a vending alcove, then caught sight of Emmett asleep in the waiting room and two standing suits talking to Justin as he sat on the floor. She ducked back into the vending alcove, hoping she didn’t have long to wait until she could get by them and into Brian’s room.

 ***********************************

Noah kept their conversation light, easy, as Brian chain smoked. He was on his third cigarette, but the compulsive rubbing of his pant leg gave way to calmer hands and a more alert gaze. Marc, seeing the change, relinquished Brian, and stood the post Noah had been manning on their arrival, just outside of the wall.

“Any word on when you’re getting outta here?” Noah lit a second smoke, resolving to buy another pack.

“Coupla days, maybe.” The pounding headache drummed on unabated, as did the acid in his belly, but he no longer wanted to maim anyone.

“I hate hospitals. Something about the smell, I think. Not to mention the food.”

Brian felt no false edges from the man, “You’d think with all the money they charge, the food would be gourmet.” Another drag and a roll of the good shoulder. His skin felt too tight.

Noah’s grin split his dark face. “If they had good food, no one would ever leave.”

Brian cocked his head, as if to say, point taken.

“I would sell my mother’s self-proclaimed, sainted soul, for a bottle of Beam right now.” Brian let the sharky smile hover long enough to make Noah a true believer.

A quick check of his watch and Noah snubbed out his butt. “Time to go, you get your meds in fifteen.”

***************************************

Everett couldn’t find Lindsay anywhere, and how the hell had Brian known she was here? He did find Cynthia, passed out on the sofa in the grieving room they had previously used for their meeting. Everett left her, found a patient room with no occupant and appropriated the pillow and blanket from the bed. She didn’t even stir as he covered her and got the pillow under her head. He figured she would be safe enough, for now, until he could get one of his plain-clothed agents to make their way to this floor and keep an eye on her while she slept.

He just finished making the call as he turned the corner and saw the investigators walking away from Justin. Time to make amends.

Everett waited for them to get closer, before offering a handshake to each. “I’d like to apologize, for Mr. Kinney. It has been a stressful few days. I hope you can understand.”

Bobby spoke first. “It’s not a problem, Mr. Ryker. We have seen worse, and frankly I would have been surprised had there not been a display of temper from someone used to getting his own way.” Sam nodded her agreement.

Everett felt the unintended double edge of that statement, but let it slide, since neither of them had been privy to his conversation with a certain sleeping beauty.

“Was there something else I can help you with? We really were not expecting to see you again so soon.”

Sam moved closer to the wall, and the two men followed. “We followed up on your missing attendant. Darren Saunders was murdered about six hours before the start of the fundraiser, ear to ear, nothing taken. No prints, or other forensic evidence other than the body. No connection we can find to any gangs affiliated with the perpetrator.”

“Convenience.” Everett was pissed at the sheer waste.

Sam nodded. “We are indebted to you, Mr. Ryker, for your swift actions and your efficient and thorough gathering of the evidence.”

Everett waved it off, unconcerned. “I need you to keep me apprised of any new information or leads as they come about, in order for me to give Mr. Kinney the best service I can.”

“I’m sure you know we can’t give out details of an ongoing investigation, it could compromise any court proceedings that may come from an arrest.”

Everett pulled out his wallet and removed a somewhat tattered business card, handing it to Sam as he said, “Call, he will verify my credentials, and answer any questions you have about my abilities. I am sure they will be adequate enough for the New York District Attorney’s Office.”

Everett strode off as Bobby looked at the card. His eyebrows shot to his hairline as he read out loud, “Gilbert Shaw, Director of the Department of Defense, Pentagon.”

“Not too shabby, for a billionaire ad-man from Pittsburgh.”

**********************************

Brian was ensconced in his bed, hungry after his talk of food with Noah, using his best forlorn expression to get Justin to go after something to eat.

“You could go to that Mexican place a few blocks south of here, where we fucked that hot mariachi band in the alley.” Brian was not as fond of Mexican food as he was of Thai, but right now he didn’t give a shit what they ate, and Justin loved food, period.

Blondie slumped his shoulders, “I don’t want to go back there without you…” he kissed the tip of Brian’s nose, “what if they remember us and gang up on me.” He licked an earlobe. “I am too tired to handle _all_ of them by myself.” He let his forehead sink to Brian’s and let out an exaggerated sigh.

Brian, not looking to be put off or denied, put on his most convincing “stepford airs” as he laid his palm over his heart, “But darling,” he breathed, “you have put in such a long, hard, day.” His eyes twinkled with mirth, “I pay a lot of money every month so you don’t ever have to feel lonely. You should take them all with you. Enjoy yourselves. Drink lots of toasts to yours truly. Have a little fun.”

Justin and his mother laughed at his antics and Everett managed to crack a smile, but was already shaking his head.

Bobby offered Sam and himself to watch over Brian while they were gone and Everett took his cue from Brian’s direct stare. He handed his radio to Bobby, ran through the channels and signals they were using and collected the rest of their group to get them out of Brian’s hair for a couple of hours. Brian closed his eyes in thanks, then opening them with glee when the nurse came in with the stronger pain meds Dr. Anders had ordered.

 ************************************

Lindsay heard Justin and Jennifer discussing what they should order for Brian as they waited for Everett to let his crew know where he was going to be and who they should contact if it became necessary. They ran a few checks on the comms and Everett stepped back in to make sure Brian was really okay with them leaving en masse.

It had been a good ten minutes since he had been dosed and he could see the younger man relaxing as the medication was doing its job.

“You sure about this Boss?” Everett didn’t even try to hide his concern.

“She won’t show til she thinks I’m alone. She’s not that brave.” Brian’s sharky grin gave Everett goosebumps.

“Fine, I’ll let Martinez and Hale know what’s up. Give me your word, you’ll call them if she gets to be too much.”

Brian stared. It was all Everett was going to get from him.

Smiling, he indicated to the group that he was ready to go, and as he passed Noah at the turn, brushed his thumb to the backside of the second knuckle of his index finger on his left hand. Noah, melted away, message received.

 ***********************************

Brian’s money and connections opened a lot of doors around town, so it had been no trouble getting the owner of the restaurant to accommodate their group in the wee hours of the morning. His name was Saul Ruiz and he recognized Justin immediately. He and Brian frequented the establishment often enough, for business purposes and socially.

Saul grouped some smaller tables together so Justin’s guests could stay close to him. Justin pulled the older, portly man to the side as his friends seated themselves, and offered him his bank card, and telling him to add a fifty percent gratuity to the bill for the inconvenience.

Saul waved his hands emphatically, refusing to take the card, or even to touch it. “NO! Senor Taylor, I hear on the news Senor Kinney is in hospital.”

“He is going to be alright Saul, we just got tired of the hospital food and Brian suggested your place.” Justin offered the card again.

Saul made the sign of the cross in front of himself then kissed his fingertips. “So good to hear, my family prays for him.” Saul pushed Justin’s hand holding the card, away again. “It is blessed I am, to have him think of my restaurant. Tonight we shall celebrate! Whatever you like, is on the house!”

He made himself busy behind the bar and Justin took the open seat at the end of the table as his companions looked over the menus. I was not long before their selections were made and margaritas were flowing freely. Justin ate and watched as the tension and worry left his little group. Even his mother, who’d been wound tighter than a spring, began to ease and smile at the stories passing around the room. It wasn’t long before the stories took on a theme, as they usually did, centering on Brian and his ridiculous antics. As the alcohol consumption increased, so did the sordidness of the tales being shared.

“One time, Brian was picking up Michael at the Big Q,” Emmett was laughing so hard he could hardly speak as he waved his hand in the air. “It was, like, a week before Christmas,” Justin groaned, he had heard this story before.

“Michael was busy with something, so he wasn’t ready to leave yet, so Brian is fiddling with things, you know how he does, and he starts checking out Santa’s workshop, you know where the kids go to get their pictures taken?”

Jennifer gasped, almost spewing her margarita, “NO! Tell me he didn’t fuck Santa!”

Emmett, coming to the punchline, snorted while shaking his head emphatically, “Uh Uh, but he did say afterwards, and I quote, “I understand now why Santa keeps all those short guys around, they are the perfect height for giving blowjobs.” In that snarky/sarcastic way of his.”

Everyone laughed, certain it was one of the tamer stories, but finding it humorous just the same. The tales continued, featuring an increasingly naked Brian as the meal progressed. Justin was surprised when his mother piped in.

She was definitely buzzed as she broke into the lull, “After Justin was bashed,” she sent him a loving smile, “ I went to the loft, to ask Brian to take him back, to help him.” She turned a bright shade of pink at the remembered embarrassment, “He opened the door completely, stark, naked. I was mortified and transfixed at the same time.” Jennifer shook her head, “God! How one man can be that fucking beautiful I will never understand.”

“Mom!”

“What? I can’t appreciate the view? For heaven’s sake Justin, I was married for twenty years and never saw as much nakedness as I have seen since the two of you got together. Besides, it’s not like he’s shy or anything.”

Heads nodded in agreement as snickers abounded all around and Justin was mildly uncomfortable. “I know, it’s just, gross, I guess, you checking him out.”

“I don’t check him out, as you put it, I just observe what he presents, like looking at the statues in the museum.”

Justin wrinkled his nose then smiled as he grasped her hand. “He is a work of art, isn’t he? Like a tragic hero from one of those epic greek sagas.”

Speaking of epic heroes, “My God! Cynthia takes the cake there sweetie.” All eyes turned back to Emmett, “Everett grabs me, while I’m trying to schmooze some money out of this pretentious older couple at the fundraiser, drags me outside for… well you don’t want to know what I thought. Anyway, I see Cynthia at the railing, kicking off her shoes and trying to unhook the clip at the back of her dress, and she’s all desperate and fixated at the same time, so I thought there was poison in her dress or something, like that movie Elizabeth? So I just, pull out my trusty pocket knife and cut the band, not wanting to get poison on me, and she strips the thing off like it’s on fire. Doesn’t even look at me, just climbs to the top of the railing, nothing on but panties mind you, and does a perfect swan dive. Like some sea-nymph in fairytales.” Emmett sighs at the memory. “That moment, just before she was gone, was perfectly beautiful and horrifying. I was scared to death. But _that_ was pure art.”

Everyone went silent at the reminder of just how they had come to be there. The weight of what had almost happened settled like a wet cloak over their happiness.

 *****************************

Brian didn’t have long to wait, Lindsay slipped into his room minutes after everyone was gone. He feigned sleep as the medication dulled the pain and she closed the door behind her. He was grateful, in that moment, that he did not need to explain himself to Everett. The man seemed to be keyed into Brian on a fundamental level, knowing what was needed of him and not requiring Brian to speak it aloud.

He smelled her first, the perfume she wore when she knew they would be alone. Deep, woodsy, unlike the florals she usually wore. She moved about the room, slowly, and he felt her eyes on him, clinging and assessing. It made his skin itch. He struggled to focus on how she felt. He didn’t like to intrude on people in that way, even though he knew they were unaware, but he had to know or this wouldn’t go well. He slitted his lids enough to see her. She faced away from him, looking out the window, back straight and arms crossed in front of her. He suspected the reason for the visit and it was confirmed in the lines of her back, loose and languid. She normally brought images of soft yellow haze and warmth, but now he felt slick, magenta night with gray nap. The last time she had been magenta, she had been begging him for his sperm. The rest was confusing. He wanted this over. Needed it to be over, he already had his answer from Melanie so this was, to him, just theater.

“You shouldn’t be here Linds.” He watched her carefully as she jerked in surprise and turned to face him. She tried to catch her breath, “Jeez, Brian, I thought you were sleeping.”

“So you decided to let yourself in and make yourself at home?” He did his best to keep his tone even, but it came out sarcastic anyway.

Lindsay bristled, “I was worried about you. I needed to see you were okay.” She gave him the shy smile she used to get her way.

“Not gonna work this time, Linds. I know why you’re here.” His voice was resigned.

“I just told you…”

Brian cut her off. “Sure, sure, you just came to see that I’m alright.” He gave her the trademark leer, “Or rather, you came to see that my cock was alright.”

“Brian there is no need to be crude.” Brian snorted at her waspy tone, but she pressed on, “It is true, I came to see how you are doing, and…to… let you know I have decided to, uh, agree to your proposal… of another baby.”

“Mmmm.” Brian closed his eyes, knowing what was going to come next.

Lindsay’s voice came from very near his ear, and he was disconcerted that he hadn’t heard her approach. “I was so worried, when I couldn’t get a hold of you. Then I heard about the accident on the radio and I got so upset at how close we came to losing you. It made me think, we should do this right away, so if something did happen, we would have another small piece of you, Gus would have a brother or sister…” She brushed a kiss over his closed lids.

Brian flinched and pulled away, fury blazing in his too bright eyes. Harsh, humorless laughter fell out of him.

“Really, Linds? You were so worried, even though Cynthia told you repeatedly that I was okay and would call you back when I wasn’t busy? And you heard about the accident on the radio? That tells me you were in the car, and since that report only came out a couple of hours ago, it would seem that you were on your way here, if not already here.”

Lindsay stood up, if for no other reason than to get away from his stare that always saw too much.

“As for having another, “small piece of me”, that would never happen again. The child would be mine alone, and if I did manage to kick the bucket, Justin would get custody.”

Lindsay gasped, tears welling, “But I thought…”

“Yeah, and I let you. Even if we weren’t together, he would still get custody, unless he didn’t want it, in which case it would be Jennifer.”

“But Brian…” Lindsay was desperately trying to regain control of the conversation.

“No, Lindsay, she is the best mother I have ever seen. My child, my choice.” Brian’s temper had hit a new level and he struggled to control the viscous thoughts sliding in his brain.

“Regardless, Melanie already said no, which tells me you are here without her knowing or you are getting divorced. Either way, that is not what I wanted. I wanted my son to have two parents that love him and want to be together, the fact that you are here against Melanie’s wishes only confirms that I should not have asked you in the first place or at least that I should have included her. FUCK.”

Lindsay moved to step closer, to comfort, to draw him back in, and he pushed her away.

“You need to leave, Lindsay. Now.” Still she hesitated, thinking she could salvage the situation somehow. Brian saw it for what it was, “I will call the cops outside to remove you if I have to.”

That seemed to do the trick as she shouldered her purse and grabbed the door handle, “Peter?”

"Not anymore. Never again." He whispered.

***********************************************************************

Bobby felt some empathy for the blonde that tried to make a dignified escape from Brian’s room, but Sam harbored no such feelings. The two way radio Everett had left activated in Brian’s room under his bed had made them privy to the entire episode. Everett leaving it, assuming Brian would not ask for help even if he needed it, had put them in a position of eavesdropping.  It was a somewhat, uncomfortable circumstance, but one that was necessary, given the patient and the situation.

Neither of them followed her, assuming correctly that Everett would have taken care of that as well. Once she was out of sight Bobby stood and pointed to himself, silently asking if Sam wanted him to take a turn with Brian. She shook her head and handed him the radio. She removed her blazer, leaving her badge and service weapon exposed at her waist, and headed back to Brian’s room.

He was flipping through channels on the muted television when she knocked then let herself in. Brian gave her a dark look at her presumption, but offered no comment. She clasped her hands, pulling them over her head, then as far behind her as possible, trying to work the kinks from her shoulders and lower back. Lowering them, she twisted from side to side, making several vertebra pop in protest.

“You come in here to show me your workout?” Brian asked flippantly as he stared at the stations whizzing by.

“Just making sure I am in top shape to take on the champ one more time.”

She smirked when he let out a full belly laugh, and a smile that reached his eyes. Yeah, she could see how Lindsay would be in love with him.

Brian indicated the unforgiving chair next to the bed, but she opted for the upholstered recliner instead.

“Are you going to pick my brains again?” He had stopped channel surfing and was eyeing her warily.

“Not really. I’d just like to talk to you, get some of your observations about your friends and family. We have interviewed most of them in the last twenty-four hours or so, but I would like your take on them.” She reclined the chair and almost moaned out loud when the pressure was taken from her too tired bones.

“You don’t really think any of them had anything to do with this.” Brian could read the response before she answered.

“No, but I would still like your input. For the file.” She closed her eyes, giving him privacy to decide whether or not he wanted to respond. She almost drifted off before he said anything.

“Who do you want first?”

She kept her eyes closed and picked the one she felt he was most comfortable with. “Cynthia.”

“She is loyal, hard-working and hard-hitting. No bullshit, and she will call you on it too.” Brian let an affectionate smile play at his lips. “Incredibly bright and highly intelligent.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” “No. She is also head over heels for my Head of Security, but hasn’t realized it yet.”

“That would be Everett, of the Pentagon persuasion.”

Brian laughed again, “Yeah, though I didn’t know it when I hired him.”

“I thought you were partners.”

“Yes, but mostly just financially and right now he works for me, not my company.”

“I see.”

“He is also head over heels for her, but he already knows she will take some convincing. She is a tough nut to crack.”

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

“You could say that, though I hope their journey is easier.” Sam was sure she heard a note of wistfulness thread its way into that statement.

“Justin?”

“Hmmm” Brian’s lips folded in and his nostrils flared on his next breath. “Not an easy journey.”

“Tell me about him.”

He couldn’t help the dorky grin, really he couldn’t. “He is charmingly snobbish, but unpretentious. His moods change as frequently as the weather, as do his whims. He’s an idealist and a realist with a smattering of spontaneity that will keep you guessing as to which one you will get at any given time. He is fantastically talented and supremely brilliant but not smug, well… mostly not. He is addicted to the internet and the availability to get information on whatever happens to pop into his head.”

“Sounds a little mercurial and high-maintenance.” Sam was careful not to offend.

“Maybe, he’d probably say the same about me.” Brian tilted his head back and closed his eyes, picturing Justin in his mind.

“Jennifer?” “I really didn’t want to like her, in the beginning, but she just grew on me. Guess Justin had to get it from somewhere. Her job is her job, but her passion is raising her children to become good people. She’s really good at it too. She pushes them to excel for themselves… expects them to live up to their own expectations. It doesn’t hurt that… she’s gotten really good…. at not just… listening… but… hearing.” Brian’s words had slowed and his breathing was getting heavier.

“And Emmett?”

Brian snorted. “Big…ass…nelly…queen…” he said it with no small amount of affection.

Sam gave him a few more minutes to allow his sleep to take hold. Slipping the remote from his hand and laying it on the rolling table by the bed, she took a moment to study the small smile still on his lips as he drifted further into his dreams, wondering all the while how he would have described himself.

****************************************************

The group that returned from the restaurant was less jovial than a mere hour ago, but considerably more upbeat than when they had left. Justin went straight for Brian’s room and when Emmett followed a few minutes later with their bag of take-out, he found the blonde curled around a lightly snoring Brian in the impossibly small space left at the edge of the bed, fast asleep.

Emmett stowed the take-out in the mini-fridge.

_Two peas in a pod, indeed._

_***************************************************_

Lara and Cynthia enlisted Marc and Noah to help them browbeat Everett into taking a nap on the couch Cynthia had vacated at dawn. He put up quite the fuss, as expected, but eventually gave in when the two men threated to knock him out the old fashioned way. He eased into sleep grumbling the whole time.

Lara checked his blood pressure before she left. It was a little high, but nothing to be overly concerned about. She spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about it lately, but hoped he would let her know if it was becoming a problem. Content that he was finally getting some rest, she let the crew know Marc was the AIC until Everett woke up on his own.

She saw Dr. Anders enter Brian’s room and followed him in. Brian tipped his head at her, “Hey, Doc, long time no see.”

She returned it and glanced at the doctor silently asking Brian’s permission to stay. Brian didn’t indicate that she should leave, so she made herself comfortable in the recliner.

Dr. Anders was making notes in Brian’s chart when he said, “Well, Mr. Kinney, I think I can let you go home this evening, if you promise to take it easy for a while.”

Lara could see the anxiety melt away from Brian’s body as he sank a little deeper into his pillows.

“With your permission, I contacted someone I think can help you. She is not what you would call a “shrink” but she does have experience in helping with cases like yours. It is very unconventional, and I wasn’t sure she would agree to do it, but she let me know a few minutes ago that she was game. Provided, of course, that you were cooperative and began a prescription regimen she recommended.”

Brian really didn’t like the idea of taking medication (except pain pills), but he knew he didn’t have a choice if he wanted to get past the PTSD.

Taking his silence as assent, Dr. Anders continued. “I have ordered the medication, and you will fill your prescriptions before you leave here, and will begin taking them immediately. Some of them can take up to several weeks to reach maximum efficacy, so you will most likely not notice any changes right away. That is not, however, a reason to stop taking them.”

Dr. Anders gave his patient the stink eye, making it clear that any behavior to that effect would be frowned upon.

Brian, in a rare moment of lucid hope, asked what had really been troubling him for days. “Is the program (he would not say therapy) successful?”

“For many, yes. For some, no. If you want more information, feel free to ask her about it when you meet. She’s very open, and she won’t under any circumstances, lie to you about it.”

Brian figured he would give her the benefit of the doubt, for now, and reserve judgement until he actually met her.

_But if she tells me to lie back on the couch, or offers to hypnotize me, it’s game over._

True to his word, Anders had the release papers ready by seven that evening. Jennifer filled his prescriptions and Lara went over the doctor’s chart on Brian and made a copy to keep on hand. Everett’s crew had yet to find out where the leak of Brian’s stay had come from, prompting him to suggest diversionary tactics with the press.

It was decided that Brian would give a statement, from the grieving room, and then leave immediately for Emmett’s hideaway. The problem, the biggest one anyway, was Justin. He and Brian had been secluded in Brian’s room for the last fifteen minutes shouting down the rafters.

No one was brave enough to interrupt that shit, so they sat around the waiting room, trying to pretend they weren’t listening to every word.

It was when the room fell eerily silent, that they all began to worry.

*************************************************************************************

Justin was raking a hand through his hair, hand on hip, and pacing the floor as Brian watched him from the bed.

“I won’t do it.” Justin’s hand balled to a fist. “We were supposed to have more time.”

Brian understood the frustration. But in the end he knew, once Justin got over his hurt feelings, he would recognize the necessity for the plan Everett had put into place for Brian’s safety.

“It is not a choice.” Brian didn’t want them to part ways on a fight, but if Justin wasn’t going to cooperate then there was no choice but to exclude him and have him removed.

“Why can’t I go with you?” Justin moved to sit cross-legged on the end of the bed.

Brian’s voice was soft, “You know why, we already went over it. You are the best diversion. If this is going to work, it has to be you.”

Justin sounded defeated, and Brian knew he would do it even before he said so. “Fine. In two hours you will give your little speech and I’ll stand next to you like a good little husband. But for the next hour you are mine. No excuses.” The last was said as he leaned over Brian, kissing his mouth and pressing him back into the pillows on the narrow bed.

Brian closed his eyes, not happy with having to part from him, but content that their parting would be on good terms.

Judging from the gleam in Justin’s eye, better than good terms. Brian was smirking when moist lips met his neck and he tipped his head back to give Justin better access, letting a sigh slip in the process. Justin moaned softly against his skin and Brian felt the vibrations race straight to his cock.

Justin was already stroking Brian’s erection with his right hand as he was pushing the robe off Brian’s shoulders with his left. Brian leaned up slightly and captured Justin’s mouth with his own, licking his way into the heat, as Justin unbuttoned his own shirt and pulled it off. Brian clasped his hand around the back of Justin’s neck as he heard the rasp of a zipper. Justin squirmed on his lap, trying to pull away but Brian held him tight, thrusting his tongue into Justin’s mouth the way he wanted to thrust into his ass.

Justin gripped his forearm; prying Brian’s hand away so he could stand, block the door with the chair and strip off his jeans. Brian’s tongue snaked out to lick his lips as Justin took his time coming back to the bed, making sure Brian got an eyeful of him jerking his own cock on the way.

“Naughty boy, Sunshine.” Brian rubbed his own chest, wanting the twink in his lap and begging. The image brought forth a plethora of memories to choose from and Brian’s brain, what was left of it anyway, latched onto the one of Justin riding him like a bronco bull.

Justin watched as Brian’s attention drifted for a few seconds, and pure lust filled his eyes as they darkened to brown and his pupils blew wide. Grabbing a condom and the small bottle of lube they kept in the box, Justin set them on the rolling table and pulled it near the bed, Brian watching his every move.

“What were you thinking, just now?” Justin captured his bottom lip with his teeth and Brian’s eyes were immediately drawn to it.

Justin straddled Brian’s hips again, peppering his face with little pecking kisses. “Tell me.” He brushed his hands down Brian’s ribcage, careful to avoid the bandage over his new stitches.

Brian gave him a wicked grin as he grabbed the lube and squirted a healthy blob into Justin’s waiting palm, before setting it back on the table. In deference to Brian only having one hand available, Justin began preparing himself as Brian tore open the condom with his teeth and rolled it on.

Bringing his mouth close to Justin’s ear, and clasping his neck, he breathed, “Do you remember the fuck we had when you were trying to get me to sponsor you for the Liberty Ride?”

Justin had just managed to slip a second finger into his ass as he was assaulted with the memory Brian’s words pulled forth. He moaned as he tried to turn his head, but Brian kept him still, as he kept describing that memory.

“You were so fucking hot, I didn’t think I would last.”

Justin used a third finger. Letting a small whimper pass his lips.

“You were so fucking determined I was going to come before you did.”

Justin did remember, very clearly, as he slid himself slowly down Brian’s cock.

Brian groaned, low in his throat, when Justin was fully seated.

“Is that what you want Brian?”

“Yes.”

Justin was rocking his pelvis, using the motion and his clenched ass to tug Brian’s dick inside of him.

“You want me to ride you hard? You want to just lie there and take it?”

Justin grabbed Brian’s hand and laced their fingers together, transferring the remainder of the lube in his palm. Brian smeared it on Justin’s cock by making a tight ring with his thumb and index finger at the base and dragging it tortuously to the head, then grasping it with the rest of his hand and jerking it in swift, twisting, pulls.

“Yes. I want to see you covered in sweat before you’re done. I want you to fuck yourself on my dick while I jerk you off.”

Justin had already begun to raise and lower himself over Brian’s hips, but hearing him talk about that night made him even hornier, more desperate and he sped up the pace.

Brian laid all the way back in the bed, confident he had fired up his partner for a wild ride, and thanking the powers that be he was no longer on the heart monitor. Justin got enough satisfaction from knowing he could hold his own, he did not need to hear the beep of the machine increasing as Brian’s heart beat raced.

Justin grabbed at the safety railings of the bed, to keep as much of his weight off Brian as possible, only allowing it to fall on Brian’s hips, and giving him better leverage to twist his pelvis and grind it into Brian’s groin.

“Harder.” Brian hissed between clenched teeth.

He threw his head back, arching his spine as Justin rode him every bit as hard as that long ago night, urging Brian to higher and higher peaks, making him emit those wonderful, gaspgroanhums of pleasure that hit all the right chords within his heart.

He pushed the pace even harder when Brian’s stroking lost its rhythm and became extra tight and erratic.  Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he continued to watch Brian, until his mouth opened on a silent shout and Justin felt Brian’s balls draw up and the familiar tingling hit the base of his own spine. He impaled himself three more times, making sure to hit his prostate on each thrust and let his orgasm take him over the edge, Brian following seconds later.

****************************************

Emmett had done his best to make Brian as presentable as possible for his short sound byte for the press. Looking at him now, Emmett figured the cosmetics that hid his pallor were not even noticeable under the camera lights. Freshly shaven he still seemed a bit hollow-cheeked, but his hair was perfectly styled and he was wearing a Prada dress shirt in a golden tan paired with dark brown Armani slacks, over all of which he had on a long, tan, Mohair dress coat.

Brian sat in the corner of the sofa with his injured left arm splayed along the back and his legs crossed, giving him a casual pose, while completely hiding the injury and soft cast. On the coffee table, were his briefcase, a glass of water, and a vintage Fedora. Justin sat on Brian’s left, further concealing the injury and Cynthia took the remaining seat on the sofa while Everett hovered at Brian’s right.

When the reporters were allowed in, the room became incredibly crammed as they all jockeyed for the best camera angles. Brian didn’t even wait for them to settle before making his statement.

“As you can see, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

Justin grinned and Cynthia had all she could do, not to roll her eyes.

“It has been reported, that I suffered severe injuries during my stay aboard the Crown Princess, and I am here to tell you that is not the case.”

Brian gave the news people a mischievous look, “I was having a great time at the party, had a little too much of some very expensive champagne, and had a little mishap. There was a bit of overreacting, and here I am, no worse for wear, and wanting to go home.” He made it all seem a drunken stumble as he donned the hat.

The three of them stood then, Everett leading the way as they walked out the door and Security Force personnel kept all the reporters in the room until they made it onto the elevator. In the corner stood a fellow with a long black coat buttoned to the top and a Steelers cap over longish dark hair. When they stepped in and the doors closed, there was an immediate rush to switch coats, and Brian’s Fedora was traded for the Steelers cap with the wig attached. Cynthia was fastening the top button on the dark coat Brian was now wearing as he adjusted the way it laid.

“Shit!” Justin squawked, as he caught a glimpse of Brian’s shell bracelet. He reached out to remove it and Brian shied away. “You have to give it up. It’s a dead give away, Brian.” They were running out of time.

Everett nodded when Brian turned his way, finally letting Justin take it off his arm and twine it around his double’s wrist as the doors were opening.

The stunt double, hat pulled low over his brow, stepped out with Cynthia and Everett right behind and Justin holding his hand. A dark sedan was waiting for them in the drop off lane outside the hospital doors and the little group made a beeline for the open doors of the vehicle, ignoring the persistent questioning of the reporters that had not been allowed in the building.

Brian had turned right, when he exited the elevator, keeping his head tucked slightly, allowing the wig to conceal the side of his face and the bill of the cap to cast dark shadows over his features. As he was passing the restrooms, the door opened, spilling Lara and Noah into the hall on either side of him as they escorted him to an emergency exit and trundled him into a non-descript cheap rental car.

**********************************************************

“Brian.”

“Brian you have to wake up.”

“It’s time for your medication.”

_I struggle to find the surface of my dreaming when I hear Emmett’s voice. Not because I want to see him, but because, now that he has mentioned it, my shoulder feels like ice picks are being jabbed in it, digging into the joint and scraping at the muscle._

_I tilt my head toward his voice, but I can’t open my eyes yet. There is a terrible rocking vibration that chatters through my body, sending off waves of pain that ripple across my injuries and light fireworks in my brain._

_Gotta wake up. Gotta get the drugs. Gotta make the pain go away._

*************************************************************************************

Emmett stood in the aisle, leaning over Brian, as his friend tried valiantly to wake up, but the stress of the previous days, and the incessant pain, was keeping him under a veil of semi-consciousness. Brian did open his eyes and focus them enough for Emmett to see that Brian recognized him and was trying to stay awake.

Marc helped Emmett get Brian to a standing position, his good arm draped over Emmett’s shoulders and Emmett’s arm wrapped around Brian’s waist, as he led him to the restroom. Lara dug through the bag under her seat and fished out several pill bottles and began to prepare Brian’s meds. Noah retrieved some pretzels and an apple from Emmett’s carry on and sliced the fruit into a small disposable bowl. Everything was ready when the two men returned to their seats. Brian glaring, as Emmett praised him for going to the bathroom “like such a Big Boy.”

“Now, you sit down here, and we will get you all fixed up and then you can go back to your nap.” Emmett fussed with a throw over Brian’s lap, and set the food handed to him on the tray that folded down from the back of the seat in front of him. Grabbing a bottle of water, he untwisted the cap and placed it near Brian’s right hand on the table as Brian munched and shot glaring looks at his companions for treating him like an invalid. Emmett was oblivious, but the rest of them quickly found something else to do.

After a few pretzels and most of the apple, Brian swallowed his pills, and indicated that Emmett could take the rest of it away, as he leaned his seat back and swiftly fell into the arms of sleep.

Once he was asleep for about thirty minutes, they all gathered at the end of the railcar.

“Did he say anything?” Marc asked Emmett.

“No, I kept him distracted. I am not even sure he realizes he’s on a train yet.”

Lara interrupted, “I still don’t see what the big deal is.”

Emmett gave her a sarcastically sad smile and patted her cheek, “Sweetie, Brian is a city boy through and through. If he had one inkling of where we are going, he’d jump off this train, broken bones be damned, and run screaming back to New York. I can’t say Mississippi will be singin’ Dixie when they get a load of him either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

 

You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by; but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by.

J.M. Barrie

 

The tired group that finally disembarked the train at seven in the morning  at the Jackson station, two days later, ultimately decided to get a couple of hotel rooms. Since none of them had really slept, excepting Brian (whom they made sure slept through nearly the entire trip), and none of them had had the wherewithal to clean up, showers and real food were high on the priority list.

Brian paid little attention as their meager bags were collected and he was ushered into a non-descript black Suburban, until they hit the edge of the parking lot and had to wait at the light before turning into traffic. He had been trying to pull his thoughts together, like so much cotton batting, when he noticed the sign on the corner of the lot, welcoming patrons to the city of Jackson and the great state of Mississippi.

Marc made his left turn just as Brian squeaked a “Fuuuck meee” from the backseat. He was soundly ignored by everyone else in the vehicle, either because they were too tired or because no one wanted to face the firing squad without first filling their belly.

Within ten minutes, Marc had parked in the lot of the local Marriott and was ushering them into the lobby and the comfortable seating arrangement they had there, while he secured their rooms. When he came back a few minutes later, they wordlessly entered the elevator and rode it to the sixth floor. He had managed to get the only conjoined rooms with a sitting area between them, effectively giving them three rooms of space. Brian went straight for the room on the right, which was on the corner of the building and gave him an unobstructed view of what was optimistically called downtown, leaving the others to fight over who got the remaining room. Both bedrooms had two queen sized beds, but he was ready to be alone after being constantly surrounded (watched) at the hospital, a stay which he had not quite altogether processed yet. Yeah, he was not inclined to be around people for a while.

He studiously checked for bedbugs and other signs of infestation, (a habit picked up in his early years as a travelling ad man), stuck his head out the door to yell what he wanted to eat, then locked it tightly, double checked it and went into the bathroom.

It was decorated as most hotels the world over in white and beige with a faux granite countertop and white skimpy towels. Fortunately he still had his duffel bag from the hospital and the wonderful delights Jennifer had generously packed for him. As he pissed (one handed), he figured he would use the little towels first, since he had not carried his bag into the room with him, and really didn’t want to see anyone else until he felt more human. He kicked off his shoes, not caring where they landed, and let his jeans slide the rest of the way off his legs, shuffling out of them when they hit his feet. Next he tackled his shirt, unbuttoning it (one handed), and trying to pull it off his right shoulder. After some wriggling and a fairly impressive series of contortions, he managed to get it off entirely, which left him staring at the soft cast contraption on his left side. He caught his reflection in the full length mirror on the back of the door and turned to get a full view of his body.

He had always been thin, but now he could count his ribs and his muscles stood out in stark relief. His skin looked pale and dry, as he stepped closer. Touching the stitches, they felt stiff, he reminded himself to ask Lara when they could be removed. The line of bruising across his hips had diminished to slightly greenish yellow dime sized spots on each hipbone.

It was his face that caused him the most alarm. Two days of stubble didn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes or the lost expression in them. He smiled his most charming smile (the one that won clients), but his eyes stayed the same. Placing a hand over his reflection, he turned away to start the shower.

 ************************************************************

Lara called Everett on her cellphone to give him an update, while Emmett used the house phone to order breakfast from room service. Brian was still holed up in his room forty five minutes later when it arrived. Marc and Noah had already been through the shower and Lara was just coming out in the terry bathrobe as Emmett uncovered enough food to feed a small army. He helped himself to a plate of buttermilk biscuits smothered in strawberry jam and carried it and a glass of orange juice off to the bedroom to eat and take his turn in the shower.

Brian poked his head out of his door, sniffed the air, and sauntered over to the table and poured some coffee into a mug. No one paid any attention as he dumped sugar into it and strolled to the window on bare feet. He watched the morning traffic on the street below and listened to the appreciative hums his companions made as they ate. The scents drifting from the table were both mouth wateringly tempting and nauseatingly rich. Without a doubt, there were more carbs on the table than Brian ate in a year. Still, his stomach rumbled, a rare occurrence, so he sat and grabbed an empty plate.

Lara shot Marc a questioning look, asking if he had seen how thin Brian looked in just his jeans, they barely caught on his hips. He was shirtless and barefoot, but with the stubble shaved off he looked more like himself. Marc winked, he had seen and they silently determined between them to try and get him to eat more. Lara knew he had only lost about ten pounds, but on his lean frame, it looked more like thirty.

With that in mind she attempted to help him make a plate, reaching forward to help him with a serving fork.

“I can fucking well do it myself.” He snapped as he forked a single over easy egg onto his plate.

“Just trying to help, you looked a little piqued when you came out, I’m sure taking a shower by yourself was pretty tiring.” Brian didn’t acknowledge her, but took the piece of wheat toast she had buttered for him.

“So tell me, when the fuck did we decide to let the Queen make our travel arrangements?” Brian asked as he flipped his egg onto his toast and brought it to his mouth to take a bite.

Marc cleared his throat and set down his juice glass. “We needed somewhere no one would look for you, and he offered. It was fast and convenient and out of the way. Besides, the only restriction you gave us was somewhere warm.”

“I was thinking Tahiti, or Miami, not butt-fuck Hicksville.” Brian was taking bigger bites and talking around his food while gulping his coffee. Not the best manners he had ever displayed but Lara would take it as a win and surreptitiously added two sausage links and some cubed melon to his plate while Marc had his attention.

Tongue placed firmly in his cheek, Marc replied “I would think Butt-fuck anywhere, would be right up your alley, so to speak.” His brown eyes sparkled with good humor.

Brian speared a sausage link and waved it in Marc’s direction before viciously biting it in half. “That may be so, but I did not approve _this particular_ Butt-fuck, so we are leaving tomorrow, for something a little more…cosmopolitan.” He finished the second link, and started on the melon.

“Not gonna happen,” Marc was shaking his head, smile still in place, “the powers that be, determined this was the best place for you until further notice.”

_Fuck Cynthia!_

Brian tilted his head back to drain his coffee cup and Lara dumped a healthy glob of hash browns on his now empty plate. Setting his cup down he said “Well, I still pay your salary, so we are moving tomorrow.” Case closed. He salted his hash browns and took a bite, they were better than the ones at the Liberty Diner. Just the right amount of crispy.

Marc was amused and didn’t hide it. “Actually, Cynthia pays Everett and he pays me, so you are now out of the loop mister.”

Brian grumbled at that, but refrained from commenting as he ate. Marc decided it was time to drop the bomb. “Also, your “companion” has already been given directions and the lay of the land here, so she will be here by the end of the week, or rather where you will be by the end of the week.”

“Why didn’t you tell me up front we weren’t staying here?” Brian actually sounded excited to be moving on. “Where are we going?”

Emmett stepped out of the bedroom then, obviously fresh from the shower and wearing nothing but the skimpy white towel around his hips. “Hazelhurst.”

Brian didn’t care for the finality of that statement or the sense of doom he felt on hearing it as Emmett disappeared again.

Suddenly, he wasn’t very hungry anymore.

 ***********************************************************

“Oh my God! Is he okay?” Daphne was truly concerned about Brian’s welfare and she was truly pissed that Justin had not told her about it sooner. “Why didn’t you call me? Some best friend you are. How could you keep this from me?”

“Calm down, Daph, I shouldn’t even be telling you now, but I’m going crazy. I have been holed up in this damn apartment for two days with the silent double, and I can’t stand it anymore. He looks enough like Brian, that when I catch him from the corner of my eye, I think its him and I turn to tell him something, or touch him, and I get that gut wrenching feeling of loss all over again. It sucks. I think it shows on my face or something, because he avoids me now. Come to think of it, I don’t even know his name, and he’s living here.”

“How long does he have to stay?” Daphne was more concerned for Justin’s state of mind than the stranger’s comfort levels.

“Until it is determined that there is not an imminent threat to Brian, or some other ambiguous criteria is met.” Justin stuck a thumbnail between his teeth. “They won’t even tell me where he went, and Em had to go plan a wedding, and he is so busy he hasn’t had time to talk.”

Daphne tried interjecting some cheer, “Well, I for one, am glad you found out it’s not cancer. You must be sooo relieved.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Justin sighed, sounding a little more morose.

“What do you mean, you guess so? Aren’t you happy he’s going to be okay?” She was a bit shocked by Justin’s doldrums, in the wake of such good news.

“I am. Really. It’s just, uh, he is really fucked up, Daph.”

“Of course he’s fucked up! He is Brian Kinney, duh! He has always been fucked up.”

“Yeah, he has hasn’t he? Always. It makes me wonder.” Justin was thoughtful.

Daphne honed in on it, not sure what Justin was thinking, was a good idea. “Shit, Justin, you can’t.”

“Why not, Daphne? There is no one here to stop me.”

 ********************************************************

Tucker was sitting at the kitchen table with Molly eating breakfast when Jennifer came through the door from the garage. He slid his coffee cup over to her when she set her purse and a heavy tote bag on the floor and slumped into a chair. She offered him a wan smile of thanks as she wrapped both hands around it.  She stared into it, the same thoughts running through her head, as they had been for three days. She was scared, worried, thankful, and grateful for so many things and she was too tired to sort them out.

Molly sensed the tension, but at sixteen, she really wasn’t sure if it was her place to say anything. Her age put her in the no man’s land of humanity, too old to be a child, but not old enough to be an adult. Not sure if her mother would answer her she asked, “Is Brian going to be okay?”

Jennifer threw a glance at Tucker, but he just shrugged.

“I saw him on the news. It’s all over youtube. He looked like shit, Mom, and Justin had that plastic smile he wears when he is humoring you.”

Jennifer hesitated.

“I’m not stupid you know. And I’m not a kid anymore. You can tell me. He is a part of this family. Shit, Mom, he’s been in my life longer than Tucker has, I deserve to know.”

Tucker hid his smirk by getting up for another cup of coffee, while Jennifer stared, dumbfounded by the person across the table from her.

_When did she grow up? Does she know how much she sounds like Justin right now?_

“Uh, he will be fine. He has a couple of broken bones, and he will need some physical therapy, but the doctor’s think he will be okay.”

“How did it happen?” Molly was pushing.

Jennifer was restricted as to what she could say, so limited it to “He had an accident.”

Molly, ever observant, “You are a crappy liar, Mom.” Then when Jennifer wouldn’t meet her eyes said, “Look at me.”

Jennifer finally did, as Tucker resumed his seat.

“Did someone attack him? Like Justin? And you are just afraid to tell me?”

Jennifer realized then, that Molly had been more hurt by the bashing than any of them had thought. It was written all over the concern on her face, stiff posture, and crossed arms. To say nothing of the tears lingering which she refused to let fall.

_So very much like Justin._

Jennifer reached out her hand and Molly gripped it in both of hers as Jennifer nodded her head, but didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.

************************************************************ 

 

Melanie was sitting on the front porch, waiting, as Lindsay pulled into the driveway. She had known she would have to have this conversation and had been dreading it the entire way home. She didn’t want to get out of the car, contemplated just turning it back on and disappearing into the sunset, but opted for taking her time collecting her things. She started by bagging the trash, tying the handles of the grocery sack tightly. Checked the backseat for any loose personal items, stowed her keys in her jacket pocket and picked up her travel mug. Shouldering her purse and with nothing left to use for stalling, she climbed out of the car, making her way on the stone path, to where Melanie continued to drink her morning caffeine on the top step.

Lindsay sat next to her bracing her elbows on her knees and resting her chin in her palms. She didn’t know where to start. She had fucked up, big time, but didn’t regret it and felt no compulsion to apologize.

Melanie ran her left hand down the center of Lindsay’s back and leaned into her side. “I’m going to talk for a few minutes and you are not allowed to say anything.”

Lindsay whipped her head in Mel’s direction, startled, and let the WASP mask of indifference slide over her features.

“You should be scared, Linds. What you did hurt me and the kids. For that you owe us an apology. But that is not what I want to talk about.”

Lindsay had no idea where this was going if it wasn’t about her trip to New York City.

“For a long time, I resented Brian. Not for who he is, but for what he represented in your life. The two of you don’t talk much about how you met, or the relationship you had before me, but I think I have managed to figure out enough to fit some important pieces together and come to some conclusions that may be hard for both of us to deal with. Because we will. Have to deal with them, I mean, or it will constantly be a wedge between us, and I won’t live like that anymore. It isn’t fair to us, the kids, or Brian.

So here it goes. You were raised to follow the path laid for you. Perfect lady, perfect behavior, perfect moral high ground, and perfect hetero family. You had to hide what you are, until you moved into the dorms for college and no longer had Mommy looking over your every move. You experimented on both sides of the fence, with men and women, and you liked it that way. You were finally getting to be who you wanted to be, though it carried a distinct smell of rebellion.

Along comes devil may care, Brian Kinney. He’s a year behind you, but quickly makes waves among your peers. Sorority girls all atwitter and some drunken competition led you to try and bag him for bragging rights.”

Lindsay opened her mouth to interject but Mel’s fingertips stopped the words.

“Whatever it was, I’m guessing it was just as stupid, because Brian has always said that he always knew he was gay. So I’m betting, while the other girls are trying to figure out how to seduce him, you decide to make friends with him. Lo and behold, you find out that not only is he sex on legs, but he is really smart, driven, funny, and desperate to escape his blue-collar upbringing. So you spend time with him, educate him, bring him home for fancy meals and old money soirees. Maybe you tutor him in using that charm on your parent’s unsuspecting peers, convincing everyone he belongs there. He’s a quick learner, that one. Before you know it, you are together so much your parents think there is something romantic about your relationship, hinting that they would approve. You want to believe that it can happen, because by this time you really like him. You know he’s gay, but because you are bi-sexual, you think he might be too. And because he is grateful for everything you have helped him accomplish, taking that rough diamond and polishing it up and giving him something to be proud of, he lets you talk him into having sex with you to see if he is bi-sexual too. I’m guessing it wasn’t too bad of an experience for either of you, because you stayed friends.

I figure you were in love with him, by that time, until I came along. I am not foolish enough not to see the similarities between Brian and myself. For the first couple of years we were together I wondered if I was just a consolation prize for the one you really wanted, but you made me believe that what you had with him was just friendship. When we decided to have Gus, you insisted it be Brian or nobody, and I was sure you still loved him. Rather than risk losing you, I agreed. Your arguments about his being financially solvent and successful, coupled with the fact that he would want nothing to do with a baby convinced me that I was overreacting. Brian himself went a long way in that regard as well.”

Lindsay had a soft, watery smile at the memory.

“I think you wanted it to be him, not just because you had become good friends and you admired him, but because it allowed you to continue to play hetero-house with him, while being with me. You would always have some small piece of him to tug on if he tried to pull too far away. He could never completely abandon you.

When we decided on a second baby, I was okay with Brian being the donor, because he is a good dad, and he pulled us through a lot of shit he could have avoided. But when he turned us down, I was hurt. I know we still sniped at each other, but I thought we had kinda buried the hatchet, ya know? Then I thought maybe you wouldn’t want another baby since he said no, and we argued about it. When you agreed to someone else, I took it as a sign that you really loved me more than him, since you were willing to agree to what I wanted.

Then he came back and said he would do it and I rejected him simply because I had the power to do it. I did to him, exactly what you did. I used a baby to tie you to me, so that no matter what happened it would be yours and mine and Michael’s. I even think he was hurt by that.

I was so angry at you Linds for taking off. You risked everything we have built together on what I thought was a whim. I had divorce papers drawn up. I could forgive you for Sam. It wasn’t easy knowing some guy could give you something you need that I could never fulfill, but after the dust settled, I realized that you were still here, fighting for me…for us. But I couldn’t get over the fact that you have loved Brian longer and maybe even harder than you could ever love me.”

Lindsay was shaking violently, unable to hold back the tears, and unable to look her wife in the face. She was ashamed, but steadfastly not sorry.

“So I sent the kids to Linda’s for the weekend, and started cleaning the house to kill time until you came back or I worked off most of my anger. I found this.”

Melanie placed the drawing of Brian and the two kids in Lindsay’s lap. The blonde choked back a sob and covered her face with both hands.

“You did this the other night when he was here, didn’t you.”

Melanie couldn’t tell if Lindsay answered, so she continued, determined to clear the air and see if they were moving forward together.

“When I found this in Gus’s room, I finally got it. After all of these years, it was like being struck by lightning, straight to the heart. I felt truly humbled and gutted at the same time. It is the best thing you have ever done Lindsay. When I look at it, on the surface I can see his self-confidence and his narcissism, but it is only a fleeting moment before you are hit with how much he loves our children, how much he envies them their innocence. You captured how he protects them, even from his own dreams. But, Lindsay, what I saw, for the first time, is how lonely he is. He would never show that to anyone and yet you captured it in his sleep. It is amazingly tragic, and so very obvious in real life, once you figure out that is what you are looking at. He hides it really well.”

Lindsay was digging through her purse, looking for tissues to blow her nose and set her wallet on the step between their legs. Melanie picked it up and opened it to the photo of Brian holding Gus for the first time at the hospital. Michael had taken the picture and captured a moment of complete wonder and happiness. Pride, and joy, and a clean slate for a future as yet unwritten. Brian Kinney, unfettered and emotionally free of his walls, connected on a soul deep level, for the first time, and marveling in it.

Melanie held it out so Lindsay could see it and it immediately brought a smile to both women’s faces.

“This is why you went, isn’t it.” Melanie was sure, but voiced the thought anyway.

Lindsay nodded, “All I have ever wanted was for him to be happy. He never seems truly happy, like he’s holding something back. But not _that_ moment.” She gestured at the photo. “He asked me to give it to him again. I couldn’t say no. He has done so much for us, I just…” Lindsay couldn’t finish.

Melanie’s lips thinned into a tight smile, “I get it Linds. I finally get it.”

 *********************************************************

 

Nick followed Justin all the way to the studio. It wasn’t the first time he had done it and probably wouldn’t be the last. The biggest issue he had with this assignment was that he could potentially be there watching the lad for hours. It posed a problem for Nick because he had no plausible reason for hanging around the area. Added to that, the entire compound was as secure as Fort Knox, minus the assault tanks, so he knew if he lingered, someone would take note while scanning the security feeds. It had prompted him to rent a single room in a nearby building, where he could watch from the window. It was unfortunate though, that the artist kept to no set schedule, and could be leaving the studio again by the time Nick made it to his observation post, causing him to hightail it back onto the street in pursuit. It had already happened twice in the last six weeks and Nick had lost Justin’s trail both times. He had worked out for himself, that if Justin stayed in the studio for at least an hour and a half, then he was most likely going to stay for several more hours working.

Nick checked the time. Justin had been inside for an hour and seven minutes. He gambled that the kid was going to stay, and made his way up to his lookout.

 

 **********************************************************

Everett was in Brian’s former office. He and Cynthia had the club chairs facing the sofa holding Sam and Bobby with the glass and brushed chrome coffee table between them. They were all going over various pieces of information that may or may not prove to be evidence in Brian’s case.

So far, the police department had given the investigators as much latitude as they needed to incorporate Everett into the investigation, so long as all questioning and subsequent apprehension of suspects was left to them. He was a consultant at this time, until further notice, and so long as information was shared and he cooperated.

He was going over the mugshots again, “Did you have these in a specific order when you had him look at them?”

Sam raised a brow, “Yes, why do you ask?”

“Do you remember the order? Can you arrange them the same way for me?”

Bobby pulled out his little notepad from his breast pocket and after flipping a few pages, set it on the table and took the photos from Everett. He spent a couple of moments rearranging them into the order he had written down and handed them back. Everett closed his eyes, envisioning Brian sifting through the pages, and mentally counting the pages he could remember Brian discarding quickly.

He flipped through the stack until he reached the mugshot of the assailant, dropping it and everything below it in the stack, to the table. He then closed his eyes and repeated the count in his head as he replayed the scene again. He removed the top six and the bottom three, adding them to the discard pile.

He was left with two photos, which he laid side by side on the table facing their guests. “Brian paused, on one of these two photos, then moved on until he reached the one he wanted, ignoring the rest. I wasn’t sure it was significant then, just taking a closer look,” he pointed a finger at the one on their left, “but I think this guy is the one who pulled the slash and dash on him.”

“I thought you said no one got an ID on him.” Sam was checking her notes.

“We didn’t. When Lara was stitching him up, right before he passed out, he said: white, dragon, Harley. He was drugged, so we really didn’t make too much of it, but something triggered enough curiosity in Brian, that he hesitated at one of these two photos. I think it was the one on the left. Look closely at the right hand. You can barely see it, the way he is holding the placard, but that looks like a dragon head gang tat to me.”

Bobby and Sam were squinting at it, not convinced that the darkish spot just past the knuckles on the back of the guy’s hand could be equated with a dragon. From that angle, it could just as easily be a Rottweiler or a lion, or even a birthmark.

Cynthia carried the photo to Brian’s desk and fed it into a scanner as she booted up one of the three terminals on his desk. Everett turned on the flat panel television adjacent to the seating area and they watched on screen as Cynthia manipulated the image in the computer.

She first cropped out everything but the hand and enlarged it until it filled three quarters of the screen. It became very blurry, so she refocused and sharpened the image. She then turned it ninety degrees until it was right side up and adjusted the contrast. You could still only see what amounted to about two square inches of skin, but it was clearly covered with the head of a dragon in shades of gold and brown.

Cynthia printed off a high resolution copy of the new image and handed it back to Bobby with the original as he dialed his phone. She was careful to save both photos into a file on the computer. Just in case.

 

************************************************

 

Harry was at the precinct, on Brian’s behalf, on the premise of garnering good favor with the police, but surreptitiously to find any information on the perpetrator that could be gathered. He was in the courtroom during the arraignment and he followed the man outside after he made bail, with his slick, big money attorney.

Harry watched, from the jailhouse steps, as one of Everett’s agents entered a car parked at the curb, and followed as the taxi the two men entered pulled into traffic.

 

 **********************************************************

It was mid-afternoon and Brian was on the bed, drifting in a haze of weed and prescription pain killers, trying to decide if he had enough energy to call downstairs and see if he could have a bottle of Beam brought to his room.

He contemplated the hairline crack in the plaster finish on the ceiling, which if looked at through squinted eyes, resembled the outline of a patch of hair on his neighbor’s back as he mowed the grass, shirtless, when Brian was in the seventh grade. Brian had been staring out of his bedroom window, recovering from his injuries, curious to see if there were any kids on their new street, when the man next door had begun mowing the lawn.

Brian’s family had just moved in two weeks prior and the boxes were not even unpacked yet. In fact, that was why he was once again recovering. Jack had moved them to this tiny town, predominantly inhabited by workers for the steel mill on the off chance he could score a good union job there. After his second interview, he was told they would not employ him, and he had come home shit-faced and pissed off.

Whether it was the fact that Brian was not unpacking as he was told to do, or the knowing smirk on his face when Jack came through the door, it was irrelevant. Jack barreled into him, then used his fists on his son, to release the pent up frustration of knowing this town was not going to be their salvation.

Four days later, he moved the family to Pittsburgh, most of their meager belongings never making it out of the moving boxes before being sent off to another tiny apartment.

 

 ***********************************************

Emmett ended his call and went to join the group in the “living room”. Plopping into the club chair, he surveyed his fellow combatants. Lara and Marc had been having a quiet conversation about how she met her dad, and Noah was playing Tetris on his phone.

Thinking it was better to know, before they got entrenched together, where they stood on the situation, Emmett asked, “How are we on finances and transportation? I sent some money down here but I thought we would have more time before coming, so I didn’t get everything taken care of that I wanted to.”

Never taking his eyes off his game, Noah extracted a fat envelope from the inner breast pocket of his sport coat and tossed it on the coffee table. Lara pulled a similar one from her purse as Marc hiked the leg of his jeans and grabbed a third from his boot top, near a wicked looking knife sheath.

Emmett knelt on the floor and gathered them together, emptying their contents and taking a quick count. “Sixty thousand dollars!? You guys were walking around with this?”

Marc opened his wallet and tossed a completely plain bank card on top of the pile. It was black, no raised numbers or owner information on it. It didn’t even have the name of a bank on it. It was just a blank plastic square with a magnetic stripe on the back.

“What the hell is this?” Having worked in retail for many years, Emmett had seen nothing of the kind before.

“It is a completely untraceable, no limit, bank card. The account it is attached to is off-shore and the owner is a figment of Everett’s imagination. He set it up with money, in case of emergency.” Marc picked it back up and put it away, then used the tip of his index finger under Emmett’s chin to close the mouth that was hanging open in shock.

“As for transportation, we have the Suburban for as long as we need it.” Noah pulled a disappointed face as he lost his game then gave his attention to Emmett.

The big queen, waved his hand in dismissal and shoved twenty thousand of the cash into his bag, then divvied up the rest and gave it back to them. “It will do to get us where we are going, but it screams money, or government, and will stick out like a sore thumb once we leave the city. Also, none of your clothes are gonna work either. Well, except for maybe Marc’s jeans, but they are still two hundred dollars a pair, and we can’t risk someone noticing.” He started muttering to himself as he made notations on the ever present notepad and wandered off to check on Brian.

With a sincere note of approval, Lara said, “He is pretty astute, for the only one of us, besides Brian, not in the intelligence business.”

Noah’s “Yup” and Marc’s nodding head confirmed that they all may have underestimated him, and Everett had been right again, in allowing Emmett to be a part of the team protecting Brian.

 ********************************************

 

Brian figured the very least he owed Jennifer Taylor was a cruise around the world, for her uncanny perception in choosing the things to pack for him in the duffel. He had dumped the entire contents onto the bed, wondering if it was as bottomless as Ms. Poppin’s carpet bag, or had some magical property that allowed it to produce some of his favorite belongings.

Among the piles he made, were his two pairs of his most broken in jeans, with the button flys and frayed waistbands and hems. They were so old, they were almost devoid of dye and as soft as down. One of them even had tiny holes at the corners of the back pockets.

The items he had used at the hospital had been laundered and folded including the bedding, toweling, lounge pants and undergarments. All his toiletries were in a separated pile, and he considered moving them to the bathroom as he took another hit on his second joint. Deciding he had no more energy than he had earlier, he checked out the other piles, the smallest of which was the sterling silver bowl with the screw on lid that contained his stash of weed. Nestled inside, he had found a new package of rolling papers and had a private laugh over Jennifer trying to figure out where to buy them, then actually making the purchase. He imagined the look the probable pot-head clerk gave her as she paid for them and thanked him with her classy, country club persona.

_I should have known she would have thought of everything. After all, when she came to my office and dumped Justin’s bag on my desk, she had made sure her son had all of his favorite things too, including The Yellow Submarine._

_“Make sure he does his homework and gets to school on time.”_

_She wouldn’t let me off the hook. Persistance, Justin definitely gets it from her. She was embarrassed to say the word Fuck, out loud, but she did it. She did it because she loved her son and wanted to know where he would be, even if it was with the devil himself, so long as he wasn’t roaming the streets._

_“Tell him that we love him.”_

_Yeah, she did. She gave up her son because she loved him. She packed a bag of his things so he would have pieces of home with him, wherever he was. So he could look at them and know she cared._

_She did the same thing for me._

Brian hit the joint again, grateful for Jennifer, and the concerned love she packed with every item on the bed, just for him.

******************************** 

 

Emmett knocked on Brian’s door and not getting an answer, turned the knob. As it opened, he was assaulted by a thick gray cloud, reeking of the distinct sweet stench of really good chronic. Fanning the haze from his face, he stepped in to find Brian splayed on the bed, covered in his belongings, like a kid buried in the sand at the beach. His feet were tucked into the giant duffel Emmett recognized from the hospital and Brian was busy rolling a joint, obviously not his first, from the silver container he had balanced on his chest while he muttered to himself.

Emmett couldn’t help the smile that split his face as he sat on the side of the bed. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Well, Honeycutt, I would think that would be obvious. I am rolling a joint and absorbing the love by osmosis.”

Brian’s eyes were glazed, but he seems completely relaxed, and Emmett wouldn’t take that from him.

“Well, Honey, I am going to go downstairs and get directions to some stores, and we need to go shopping for supplies when I come back. So you might want to lay off of that until later.” Brian shrugged, ignoring him, as he licked the edge of the paper and rolled it tight.

Emmett made it to the door, smiled again, and said “Don’t call me Honeycutt.”

 

 *********************************************

Marc figured somebody had to stay sober, so he abstained from smoking as the joint was passed around the living room coffee table. Brian had cruised out of the bedroom following Emmett’s leaving, carrying a silver tin and smoking a joint.

An hour and a half later, and using the upside down silver lid as an ashtray, Brian, Lara, and Noah were sitting on the floor around the table working on their second joint. Marc wasn’t smoking, but he was certainly buzzed, just from being near enough to breathe the second hand smoke.

Emmett came back to the room to find them cackling about some story Brian had told them about one of his tricks.

“Okay, everyone, chop chop, it’s time to shop. We need provisions and after that we can get some dinner.” The three agents jumped up like they had been caught shoplifting, but Brian continued to lounge against the front of the couch finishing the joint and finally crushing it into the lid.

Standing, weaving slightly, he glided, loose hipped and languid to find his shoes and a shirt.

 *********************************************

 

The supercenter boasted everything from ground beef to oil changes and Emmett was regretting making everyone come with him. So far, Brian was walking around eating from an open bag of Funyuns and Noah and Lara passed a package of Twizzlers between them. Marc seemed to be okay, but Emmett caught him putting a two pound tub of old fashioned fruit slice candies in the cart. In fact, as they strolled down the aisles, they all seemed to be putting stuff in the cart. Cherry sours, Runts, M&M’s, popcorn, Yoohoo, and other munchie treats.

At least he had gotten them to select some clothing first. Jeans and tees all around, jackets for the cooler evenings, and some inexpensive shoes. By the time they made it to the checkout lanes, Emmett was thoroughly disgusted with their juvenile behavior in the store and vowed never to have children of his own.

Still, it was good to see smiling faces again, so he paid for their purchases and opted to take them through drive-thru for dinner rather than suffer in a restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you are still interested in reading this story.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

 

 

He could only stare, horrified…

 

J.M. Barrie

 

 

 

Justin was on a roll, broad slashing strokes of his brush left bright swatches of color on the oversized canvas he had been working on since Molly’s call. She had been concerned for Brian, sure, but her concern for Justin eclipsed it on a grand scale. She had told him that she feared Brian’s attack and subsequent hospital stay would re-ignite Justin’s old trauma. Sometimes he had to remind himself how young she had been when he was bashed, and then tell himself she was no longer a child and deserved an honest expression of his feelings. They had grown much closer over the last two years, so he was comfortable sharing how he felt with her.

 

He felt lighter than he had in days after talking to her. It was evident in the painting he was currently working on. He knew, on a gut level, that it would be one of his best pieces and decided to hold onto it until he had another solo show, and not a group feature, in one of the better galleries. He switched to an ultra fine brush and carefully lay in the hair thin lines of cobalt blue to finish it off and quickly moved to an easel with a canvas already started.

 

It was a nude. Taken directly from Justin’s memories the last night he and Brian had before Justin first came to New York. Brian was naked, splayed cross-wise on their bed, facedown and arms curled up around the pillow under his head. Justin had thought, looking at him, that he would forever marvel at the long lean lines of Brian’s body. He had wanted to do this painting for a while, but only worked on it in between other projects. He studied it now, noting how he had captured the cowlick on the left of Brian’s nape and the way his skin had glowed golden, his latent musculature evident but not pronounced. He was a man completely confident in his nakedness and comfortable in his own skin. The portrait teased the viewer with only a partial profile of his face, hinting at the firm line of jaw and barely a corner of parted lips.

 

No broad or abstract strokes for this painting. Justin took his time making sure each detail was perfect. As soon as his hand started to tighten up, he stopped working on it. It was why it was taking so long to finish. He only worked on it when he was in complete control and his hand was in good shape.

 

Stepping back, rubbing the big muscle at the base of his thumb, he gathered his brushes and carried them to the sink for cleaning.

 

************************************************************************

 

Cynthia traversed the bowels of the station until she came to Everett’s command center door. It was open and she could see him sitting at the console eyeing all of the various feeds and smoking what she smelled was a clove cigarette. His back was to her so she leaned on the jamb, watching him work. Every few minutes he would type a command into the computer and a different set of feeds would present on the monitors.

 

She was not sure how she felt about him yet, other than wanting him in her bed. She was not much older than Lara, and Everett was old enough to be her father. Not that it bothered her; she had slept with men even older. With Everett, something was different. She could not point to anything directly, but it was keeping her from sleeping with him. They had made out, she even went so far as to jerk him off on the ship, and she certainly wanted to fuck him. She couldn’t think of him without images of their coupling intruding. He wasn’t pushing for it or alluding to it, so why was she all of a sudden almost obsessed with the idea and unwilling to just go for it?

 

She was so lost in her musings, she hadn’t noticed he had snubbed out his cigarette and turned to face her. He used those brief moments to study her. She was obviously deep in thought, and though it was most probably about Brian’s situation, he really didn’t think that was it. Something about her posture, her arms crossed at her waist, lent an air of vulnerability he had never seen her carry before. She appeared far younger than her thirty-one years. Normally people assumed she was much older, given her penchant for single-handedly running million dollar business deals and corralling not one, but two corporate offices full of underlings needing direction. Not to mention the fact that she had at least one finger in every single one of Brian’s business pies. A lot could be said about anyone capable of keeping up with Brian, but Cynthia was in a league of her own. Not only did she keep up, but he relied on her, respected her, and most of all trusted her with everything they had built. Cynthia was more capable than most of the upper echelons of military commanders Everett had worked with. She was well versed in her craft, was very insightful, intuitive, funny, and ready to go for the jugular if necessary. She had nearly instant recall of just about everything she read or observed which made her a very dangerous adversary when she was crossed.

 

For all of those reasons he was attracted to her, but seeing that hint of insecurity, as she leaned in the doorway, cinched tight the rope she had on his heart. He knew that he would remember that instant as the tipping point. The moment he fell in Love with her.

She finally noticed him watching her, dropped her arms and stood up straight, looked him dead in the eye and entered the room, closing the door behind her.

 

_Yep, Love with a capital L._

 

 *************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

Emmett convinced Marc to borrow Noah’s sport coat and pretend to be his assistant while they shopped for another vehicle. Marc was not convinced, however, that Emmett would be able to procure one at almost seven-thirty at night.

 

The two of them had been walking around the used car lot for barely four minutes when the young sales man came out from the offices and introduced himself.

 

Emmett cut him off before he could launch into a sales pitch. “I will give you eight thousand for the Dodge Ram Quad Cab on the back of your lot over there.” Emmett pointed and Marc grimaced at the giant yellow beast.

 

“Well, sir, the price on that particular truck is twelve thousand, but since I was just about to lock up and head home for my dinner, we can settle on ten and finish the paperwork in less time than it takes a rattler to strike.” He plastered a big toothy smile on his face.

 

Marc was still trying to process the color when he heard Emmett say, “My assistant here, would probably say that would be a fair deal, but you and I know better. I will bet when you took over this lot, likely from your daddy, you thought you could bring in new hipper and younger buyers by offering something so different, so cool.” Emmett raised a brow, “But no one around these parts wanted to drive anything sooo unmanly as a yellow truck with a black hard top shell so it’s been sitting there since you got it and your daddy has never let you live it down. I’ll bet it has never even been test driven.”

 

The sales man turned a florid shade of red and shifted from one foot to the other.

 

“So here is the deal, I give you eight thousand cash. You and my assistant go inside and you get him started on the paperwork. You bring me the keys and I drive it around the lot making sure all is as it should be until the paperwork is finished, at which time you will cheerfully wave us goodbye, go home to your dinner, and quit being the butt of jokes from your father. All in less time than it takes a rattler to strike, hmmm”

 

Wavering in indecision for less than two seconds, the sales man indicated for Marc to follow him inside.

 

 ***************************************************************

 

By nine thirty they were back at the hotel after stopping for gas and finding out that the mattress store was already closed. Marc used his key to open the door and preceded Emmett into the room where he stopped abruptly, causing Emmett to squeak in surprise and peek around the man’s beefy shoulder.

 

“Of all the, what the hell happened in here?” Emmett surveyed the room. All three of them were passed out in what appeared to be weed and junk food comas. Noah sat at the end of the coffee table, head on the surface and drool leaking from his open mouth as he snored. Lara was draped haphazardly sideways in the club chair, fingertips and lips covered in Cheetos residue, and Brian was face down on the sofa, arm trailing to the floor with what appeared to be Gummy Bears stuck in the back of his hair. The entire area was littered with empty wrappers, soda and beer cans, and crumbs. Lots and lots of crumbs.

 

“Fuck it.” Emmett shook his head, giving Marc a no-nonsense face. “I did my part today, this is on you. I’m going to bed.” He left Marc standing there, unsure if he should try to wake everyone and send them to bed. Marc took a page from Emmett’s book and left them to sleep it off and commandeered Brian’s room.

 

 ******************************************************

 

The next morning the only ones interested in eating breakfast were Marc and Emmett. Everyone else made a concerted effort to stay away from the table as they tried to set the room to rights. Brian gave up after only a few minutes due to the pain in his shoulder and disappeared under the guise of needing a shower. Lara silently followed after him with a glass of water and the satchel holding his meds.

 

Marc and Emmett shared amused looks as they ate figuring having to clean up their mess was punishment enough. Noah ventured to the table briefly, to make three cups of black coffee, holding his breath the whole time in an effort not to vomit. As soon as he accomplished it, he too took off for Brian’s room.

 

“Good to see they are banding together.” Marc offered around a biscuit slathered with honey.

 

Emmett nodded as he chewed a bite of ham steak. After swallowing he asked, “Dare we leave them here alone again, while we pick up the mattresses?”

 

Marc chuckled, “I think they will be all right in a couple of hours. Any other stores we need to hit while we are out?”  


“No, we can have them meet us downstairs and pick them up on the way out of town if you want. I can drive the truck and you can follow in the Suburban.”

 

Marc finished his orange juice. “Sounds like a plan, Skipper.”

 

 *********************************************************************************

 

Brian adamantly refused to ride in the “banana-mobile” no matter how long Emmett extolled its luxurious interior and expensive upgrades. He shoved both of his young companions in the direction of the truck then climbed into the front seat of the Suburban and locked the doors before either one could recover enough to try for the back seat.

 

They hit Interstate 55 South and within forty minutes passed a sign for Hazlehurst, population 4200. Brian groaned, but they didn’t stop there. Just south of Brookhaven, population 10103, they turned onto a state highway headed west. Driving straight through Lucien, population unknown, Brian was getting discouraged. The towns were getting smaller and more ramshackle the longer they travelled. They passed many buildings that had been left to the elements he was sure a strong wind could knock over. They cruised down the main drag of Quentin, there were only two traffic lights, and made a right onto a dirt road at the city limits, heading north into Homochitto National Park. The dirt road tapered away to nothing more than a grassy lane between towering trees, and Marc hoped he would never have to drive it at more than a crawl after it got dark. One and a half miles later, the trees opened into a full acre sized clearing, in the center of which stood a giant log cabin. Strike that, it was a lodge. Bigger than any of them had anticipated and certainly more accommodating than the surrounding towns had indicated.

 

They had all expected something barely a step above camping, but this could easily be a tourist destination. Two stories of old weathered hand cut logs and large double paned windows. It was evidently well cared for and the grounds maintained. They were barely an hour and a half from Jackson, and this place was in the middle of nowhere. Brian would not have been more surprised if he had found a five star hotel in the middle of the Sahara, and the knowledge that he wouldn’t be bathing in the river went a long way in assuaging his bad feelings about not being in Tahiti.

 

As they climbed out of the vehicles, Lara whistled appreciatively and Noah’s face split into a wide grin. Emmett pushed his Eyeconics sunglasses to the top of his head as he rounded the back of the truck and joined the group now gaping at the building. Brian threw his arm around Emmett’s shoulders, saying with no small amount of awe, “I gotta hand it to you Honeycutt; this is the absolute last thing I was expecting.” Brian gave him a dramatic exaggerated buss on the cheek and headed for the deep, wrap-around porch, plunking himself into the double seater wooden-slatted swing on the far right.

 

Emmett clapped his hands in two sharp slaps, “Time’s a wastin’, lets get the gear inside and I’ll give ya’ll the grand tour.”

 

 *******************************************************

 

After ten minutes of watching the others wrestling the mattresses into the building, Brian got bored and wandered around the back of the lodge. As he rounded the last corner, a good-sized barn and two smaller outbuildings came into view. He went to the barn first, as it was closest, and slid through the partially open door.

 

He was immediately assailed by the smell of large animals, or rather the byproducts of large animals. Underlying that was the scent of fresh hay. The left side of the barn was partitioned into six stalls. The first three occupied by horses, the next two held cows, and the last a small assortment of goats. The opposite wall contained what appeared to be some kind of medical station, and great big stacks of hay bales.

 

Back outside, he checked out the next nearest building, which turned out to be nothing more than a giant chicken coop he did not enter due to the nose-hair-curling aroma of ammonia. Giving it a wide berth, sidestepping the chickens milling around his feet, he was intrigued by the last building. It sat on the edge of the clearing as it backed to the woods, causing Brian to wonder what kind of farm animal could be housed within. It seemed to be a miniature replica of the lodge and had a human size doorway with no door hanging in the jamb. It was roughly twenty feet long, fifteen feet wide, and twelve feet tall. It even boasted its own glass windows. Brian figured it to be a child’s playhouse and thought he would check it out to see if Gus and Jenny would like one.

 

He got no closer than thirty feet when a snarling growl sent icy fear racing down his spine. He stopped, looking around for the culprit, but couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. He took two more strides, carefully watching the woods, and completely missed the yellow eyes staring at him from the door. He glanced behind, to make sure nothing was sneaking up on him, then whipped his head back around as he heard heavy paws strike the earth and coming towards him.

 

He was rooted, unable to move, as a hairy black bear charged him. Brian stepped back, tried to turn, tripped on god knows what, and ended up flat on his back with a hairy paw planted on either side of his shoulders and a snarling, tooth-baring maw dripping strings of saliva and hot breath inches above his face. Not sure if he should take comfort in the fact that he had yet to be bitten, he took a better look at the creature, realizing it was some kind of dog and not a bear.

 

_What had Caesar Milan said? Oh yeah, show them you are the pack leader._

_RIIIIIGHT._

_Show a snarling mass of giant canine aggression who’s boss._

_Here goes nothing. Hope they don’t put “Eaten by dog” on my headstone._

 

Brian made sure to make no eye contact as he rolled to his good side, nudging the dog in the process, and stood up. He struck his most confident pose and told the dog to “sit” in a firm voice. The animal eyed him warily and sniffed the air, but had ceased growling. He made a couple of circuits around Brian’s legs as the human ignored him then nudged his snout into Brian’s palm as it hung by his hip.

 

Brian did his best to stay still as the dog checked him out, only slightly startled when a wet and slobbery muzzle pushed into his hand. Brian didn’t move as the dog advanced, effectively causing Brian’s hand to run from the top of its massive head, down the long back, and ending with what seemed to be a full yard of tail.

 

The beast’s ears pricked up, head swiveling in the direction of the forest, body going stone still. A shrill whistle pierced the air and the dog took off running, followed by another taller and less hairy behemoth from what Brian now knew was a big dog house.

Within seconds they were bounding playfully around a human in jeans and flannel, wearing an oversized straw hat and carrying a rifle. As the group approached, Brian assumed the gun-toting person to be the caretaker of the lodge and stuck out a hand in greeting, belatedly noting it was still covered in slobber. Quickly wiping it on his jeans he proffered the hand again, caught off guard as he stared into eyes exactly like Emmett’s. Except, this wasn’t Emmett. This was a woman that could take first place in a Kathy Bates look-alike contest. She was obviously amused by Brian’s run-in with the dog, but shook his hand and politely refrained from commenting on it.

 

She gave him the once-over, noting the cast, “You must be the Great Mr. Kinney.”

Brian was still trying to come up with something to say, that didn’t revolve around her appearance, and settled for giving her a charming smile.

 

“Yep,” she said matter of factly, bracing the rifle on her shoulder and absently rubbing the beast’s head, “that smile announces you better than anything. It’s exactly as Emmett described it. Come on up to the house, I’ll get ya’ll settled, then we’ll have a bite to eat and give you the rules.”

 

Brian had to double-time it to catch up with her as she rounded the building and headed for the big front door.

 

 ***********************************************************

 

Molly knew what she did was wrong, but she also knew that if she didn’t find out all she could, she would never sleep. Worry would eat at her insides until she had the truth. Worry for Brian’s well-being and ultimately the consequences it would have on Justin. Her brother was one of the few people that treated her like an adult. He didn’t automatically dismiss her feelings as teenaged angst or whimsical musings. She often felt, because he had been so sure of himself at her age, that he was the only one capable of seeing any worth in a sixteen year old girl. He listened, like she was important, like her opinions mattered to him. She reminded herself of all of this as she snuck back into the dining room and retrieved her mother’s tote bag. She rationalized it as protecting both Brian and Justin as she carried to her room and dumped the contents on her bed. Even when she realized that it was all medical documents, the tattered brown folder beckoned her with secrets. Was all of this what had put that forlorn expression on her mother’s face? How much trouble would she be in if she was found out?

 

It didn’t matter. She wanted to help, and the adults were shutting her out. Oh they were giving her what they thought were sufficient answers, but to her, they were telling her she was too young to be able to do anything to help.

 

A little angry, and very curious, she opened the brown folder first. It was a bit hard to tell what she was looking at, but by the fifth page she had figured out the medical shorthand and realized she was looking at a history of abuse. Nearly every entry was accompanied by some lame excuse of an accident given by a parent that by 2007 were tiresome clichés.

 

The second, newer folder was filled with Brian’s medical history after he turned fourteen. The abuse had become more sporadic and the few times the parent/guardian line had been filled listed Debbie, or later on, Vic.

 

The third file she went through was Brian’s Medical Power of Attorney, listing her mother as the designee.

 

The fourth was Brian’s medical history after he turned twenty-two. No more abuse, but a case of crabs, bi-annual checkups, testicular cancer, and syphilis, followed by his most recent hospital stay.

By the time the sky was streaking with the gray of pre-dawn, Molly had read everything and returned the tote to the dining room. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if it had been worth the risk, and what, if anything, she could do to help.

 *******************************************************************

 

Cynthia was a little pissed and a lot frustrated as she sat at Brian’s desk trying to get some work done. Her thoughts drifted, again, to last night’s encounter with Everett. She had decided, while watching him, to fuck him then and there and hopefully get him out of her system, but when she approached him, making clear her intent, he had brushed her off. Sure he had been polite, apologetic, and even seemed to regret the decision, but he held firm, citing work he had to do and returned to watching his monitors.

 

The frustration was definitely of the sexual persuasion and the anger, at being rebuffed. Cynthia was not used to not getting her way with men. They were fairly easy pickings and the ones that weren’t usually didn’t take long to cave, once she put effort into it.

 

Everett was the first to say no, and stick to it, the bastard. It would be a cold day in hell before she came onto him again.

 

It was only one in the afternoon, but she poured herself a shot from Brian’s private stash and returned to checking emails and following up with clients.

 

 *************************************************************

 

Marc and Noah were putting the last new mattress in place as Emmett came into the room with sheets. The three of them had the bed made in less than five minutes and Emmett took Brian’s toweling from his duffel and hung it in the adjacent bathroom.

 

“I don’t understand why he gets the big bedroom all by himself.” Noah said.

 

Emmett came back and cocked a hip, “Trust me, you will be grateful. Brian doesn’t like people in his space when he wants to be alone. Plus, this room is the closest in size to his bedroom at home and the bathroom is on the same side. I am hoping that this, coupled with his own sheets and towels, will make the transition a little easier for him. I also made sure to get the food that he likes and his music preferences programmed into the player over there.”

 

Marc and Noah shot each other looks that said Emmett was crazy, but kept their mouths shut.

 

Lara wandered in, glanced at all three men, and took off down the stairs with Marc on her heels. Emmett thought their behavior disturbed and sent a questioning look at Noah who shrugged and said “If we are all up here, no one has eyes on Brian.”

 

They raced out of the room when a female voice started yelling, “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot, it’s just my dog!”

They hit the bottom of the steps to see Marc; pistol braced in both hands and pointed at a snarling black dog the size of a small horse. Every time Lara tried to step around him, he would shift, effectively keeping his body between her and the dog. Brian and an older woman were standing just inside the door. Lara had seen the dog accompany them, but Marc had not and determined the dog a threat. She appreciated his protective stance on her behalf, but was capable of taking care of herself, and irritated that he had yet to holster his gun, even after finding out it was just a dog. She made to step around him again; he moved to step in front of her, so she planted her hands on his shoulders from behind and licked his ear, getting him to focus his attention on her. His hands dropped marginally and she used his shock against him by shoving her knee into the back of his and pulling with her hands until he was overbalanced and hit the floor flat on his back. The look of surprise on his face was barely visible before the dog took advantage of the situation and planted its forepaws on his chest and licked the shit out of his face smearing great globs of slimy drool everywhere he could reach. Marc tried to shove the dog away but it was like trying to move a wriggling mountain since the dog weighed as much as he did and had the upper hand by being on top.

 

Brian’s hoots of laughter filled the room until Emmett figured Marc had had enough and said, “You can call him off now Aunt Lulah, or I will have to explain how Everett’s best agent drowned in slobber. I don’t think he would be happy with me, losing a man on our first day here.”

 

Lulah grinned, showing a gap in her front teeth, then let out a short, sharp whistle and the dog went bounding back outside, nearly knocking Brian flat with a swipe of his tail on the way out.

 

Emmett hurried to her side and hugged her for all he was worth. She kissed both of his cheeks and framing his face with her hands, took a good long look into his eyes. Nodding once, she let go and offered a helping hand to Marc as he struggled to regain his feet.

 

Once upright, he did his best to regain his composure as drool slid down his neck and introduced their motley crew and thanked her for the use of her home. She waved it all away as if it was of no consequence and leaned the rifle on the wall next to the door indicating they should all follow her to the kitchen.

 

She pointed to the table, where they all took a seat, and she pulled a platter of sandwiches from the ice box and bags of chips from the countertop. Placing it all in the middle of the table, she sat in the only empty chair and laid it on the line while they ate and Marc did his best to clean off the drool with a paper napkin.

 

“My name is Lulah. You can call me Auntie, Aunt Lulah, just Lulah, Ma’am, Your Highness, or anything else you like so long as it is not disrespectful. You will comport yourselves as adults, though you all seem a tad young, and you will clean up after yourselves. I am not a maid, nor am I your mother. I don’t tolerate backtalk and you can expect a whuppin’ if I deem it necessary. You will all help with the chores and make yourselves useful while you are here. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Most everyone wore an amused expression at her treating them like children, until she gave them each a pointed look, making sure they knew she was dead serious and the expressions changed to shock. She sat silently, hands folded on the table until she heard a “yes ma’am” from every occupant.

 

“Good.” She nodded her head, grabbed a sandwich, and toting the rifle again, sauntered out the door.

 ****************************************************************

 

Justin rode with Fake Brian, as he had come to think of him, Everett, and Cynthia to the airport. The ruse, as Everett had planned it would be to fly to Montana where Remson Pharmaceuticals had a manufacturing plant, and stage a lover’s spat and come back to New York, leaving Everett, Cynthia, and Fake Brian to attend a plant tour followed by two weeks of “meetings”. The dreadfully cold weather would allow Fake Brian to wear heavy clothing and conceal most of his head in hats, scarves and assorted winter headgear when in front of any cameras or news people.

 

The trip itself had been tipped to the press to make sure that whomever was after Brian would have the opportunity to follow in their wake, drawing some of the danger away from friends and family, and hopefully give Everett a chance to snare a bad guy that would lead to whomever set the hitman on Brian in the first place.

 

Justin was just grateful to have Fake Brian out of the apartment so he could relax and get a chance to think in privacy about his next course of action. He knew Brian would have a fit if he left New York and the security that Everett’s team offered, so whatever came next had to be local. He had a small show, only six pieces, at the Dimot Gallery the following Tuesday, but after that there was nothing pressing until the end of January. He had purposely not committed to anything for the holidays, hoping to spend the time with Brian and their extended family. Justin held onto the hope that the situation would be rectified by then and his holiday plans would not be ruined.

 *********************************************************

 

Molly paced inside her room, turning down breakfast, and making herself a nervous wreck. Her first impulse was to pick up the phone and call Justin to talk to him of her discovery, but on the off chance that he didn’t know, she didn’t want to be the one to tell him. Justin sometimes had the penchant of shooting the messenger. Sure, he always apologized after calming down, but being in a state of distress herself, left her in no way capable of handling a Queen-Out.

 

Mulling it over and over, she finally came to the conclusion that she would steer a conversation in that direction, maybe suss-out how much her brother knew, then tell him about the files.

 

Feeling her nerves begin to settle, Molly lay on the bed, drifting into a nap.

 

***************************************************************

 

Ted made himself at home in Brian’s old office in Pittsburgh. He spent an hour or so arranging his things in the desk to his liking and checking up on current accounts and his email. He noted the one from Michael and jotted himself a note to send a reply before leaving for the night.

 

There was a knock on the door and Ted looked up to see Carl on the other side of the glass. Waving him in as he stood, Ted offered him something to drink before sitting back down.

 

“I just came to tell you that Everett has been giving me updates, and I have let Debbie know that what she knows has to stay between us. She doesn’t even know that you are in the loop. I figure that should cut down on any slip ups.”

 

Ted nodded, relaxing, now that he didn’t have to be the one to tell her. He did, however, give Carl a questioning stare.

 

“Don’t worry, I fed the accident story to Michael, and for now he seems content with that.”

 

Ted stood and grabbed two Pepsi’s from the mini fridge and handed one off to Carl as he said, “I got an email from him a couple hours ago, that I haven’t responded to yet. He said he had something really important to tell me, but he wanted to do it face to face. Any idea what it is?”

 

Carl cleared his throat, he didn’t want to spread gossip, but it seemed Michael was going to do it anyway, so figured it was better for everyone if Ted went into the conversation forewarned.

 

“He is probably going to tell you that Brian asked Lindsay to have a baby for him, but you didn’t hear that from me. But, to my way of thinking, so long as he has that bone to chew on, along with the accident story, maybe we will get a little more time before he learns the rest.”

 

Ted, realizing he was off the hook, for the time being, nodded his head vigorously while telling Carl he would do everything he could to keep it that way.

 

“One more thing,” Carl said, “Lindsay was in New York. I don’t have the details as yet, but the story is it didn’t end well. You might want to keep on the lookout for bad feelings from that sector.”

 

Ted’s eyebrows nearly hit his receding hairline at that, but Carl offered no more on the subject before tossing his empty can and letting Ted know he would keep in touch as he left.

 

 *******************************************************

 

Justin fulfilled his role in their little drama by shouting breakup garbage at Fake Brian directly in front of the doors of the airport bar, guaranteeing that someone with a camera would take video or stills and sell them to the nearest tabloid rag. For scene two, he stomped back to the tarmac and re-boarded the plane before it was even refueled. Sinking into the plush seat, he smiled to himself. All three of his babysitters were gone. It was time to get his ass in gear.

 

 *****************************************************

 

Brian spent most of his first day at the Lodge, cleaning the bric-a-brac from his room and getting Emmett to help him rearrange the few pieces of furniture he allowed to stay. Among them were the bed, a nightstand on either side, a small desk under the window, and a highboy dresser with six drawers on top of which perched the small television. The small closet held the duffel and his shoes.

 

“I am definitely going to need more clothes. Is there an internet connection for my laptop?” Brian asked Emmett from his supine position on the bed.

 

Emmett busied himself in the bathroom, installing a shelf for Brian’s ridiculously expensive toiletries. “Yes, it was one of the first things I asked Aunt Lulah to take care of, since you will need to keep in touch with things back east.” Emmett tightened the last screw and pulled down on the shelf to make sure it would hold before arranging Brian’s bottles and jars and tubes in a pleasing display. He put the screwdriver back into the small toolbox and glanced around the bathroom, making sure everything was perfectly aligned and seamlessly straight.

 

As he was leaving he noticed Brian had fallen asleep sideways in the bed and pulled his shoes off before covering him with the duvet.

 

 ****************************************************************

 

For the next three days, Brian only came out of his room to forage for food (and his meds), get an update from Marc, and occasionally sit in the porch swing. He spent most of his time sleeping. When Emmett expressed concern over how much time he was sleeping, Lara told him it was normal with the pain-killers, but with the new medications for the anxiety and PTSD, it would probably be a while before he found a comfortable sleep/wake cycle. With the amount of stress and trauma he had been through she was surprised he had stayed awake at all.

As for the rest of them, they fell into a nice routine with Emmett taking care of things inside the Lodge, like cooking, cleaning and laundry, while the rest of them did chores outside enabling them to keep an eye on the grounds and set of shifts for watch/patrol.

They cleaned the coop, collected eggs, mucked stalls, milked cows, and generally did whatever they were told. Not that much was accomplished those first days, since none of the agents had ever done anything like it before and had to be taught, but by the time the end of the week rolled around they had a nice rhythm going and naturally fell into the chores each of them seemed best at.

That is, until SHE showed up.

The SHE in a beige Dior suit, black Manolo Blahnik stilettos and a matching broad brimmed hat and oversized shades.

SHE, hauling a vintage Louis Vuitton travel trunk on wheels, in her wake.

SHE, who stood out like a sore thumb and was sweating through her suit jacket.

SHE, standing on the porch, knocking on the door for all she was worth, as they came around from where they were working behind the building.

SHE, who met Brian for the first time, when he was woken up by her knocking and answered the door bare assed naked (except for the cast).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated and a great incentive to write faster.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

 

If you cannot teach me to fly, teach me to sing.

  
J.M. Barrie

 

Justin was looking out the window as Brian’s private jet flew over the Midwest. There wasn’t much to look at really, as it was mostly flat, but Justin’s mind worked in overdrive thinking of possible projects he could entertain himself with after the gallery showing on Tuesday.  
First and foremost, he needed to find out what was in the files that his mother had so carefully kept away from him at the hospital. Hopefully it would lead him in the right direction.  
Also, he needed to maintain as much of his routine as possible. Or what he had of one, anyway, so as not to draw attention to himself.  
Daphne may or may not decide to help him, and if she didn’t it was a fifty-fifty shot she would tattle on him if she thought he would end up hurting himself.  
The good thing at this point, was that everyone seemed to believe he would just sit back and take orders while he knew Brian was not well.

  
_Dammit all, I haven’t fought to be by his side for seven fucking years, just to have him or anyone else keep me on the sidelines._  
 _I don’t care what kind of danger there is, I am going to find him, and stick to his ass like a barnacle_.

  
Justin’s thoughts were cut short by the ringing of his cellphone. He nodded his thanks to Caryn as she handed him his water, while answering Ted’s call.

  
********************************

 

Everett had a security team waiting, in plain clothes, for their arrival. Cynthia either didn’t notice or didn’t care as she continued to give him the cold shoulder and grabbed her suitcase before he could help her, briskly walking to the airport exit. She had barely spoken to him and only about business since she had sought him out in New York.

  
Obviously she was pissed he had not had sex with her. Something akin to pain stabbed his heart as a throbbing picked up in his groin. There was no mistaking that he wanted her. Just as there was no mistaking that he wanted more from her. Now that he knew he was in love with her, having her as a fuck buddy wasn’t going to cut it. He had had enough of those. He wanted all of her. Every feeling she had to give, every thought, every single piece, flaws and all.

  
Damn, but she was stubborn. He knew if she thought about it, she would get it. She was far from stupid. But watching her keep her distance (and struggling with it), he knew she already did and was unable, slash that, unwilling to admit it.

  
She kept herself so rigid the entire way to the hotel it was any wonder she didn’t shatter into a million tiny pieces whenever they hit a pothole.

  
Everett finally gave up trying to engage her in conversation or even trying to get her to look at him.

************************************************

“Jen, you’ve been sitting in this chair for two hours staring out the window. You wanna tell me about it?” Tucker asked, as he took the seat nearest her. She didn’t offer a response, just sipped her cold coffee and fiddled with her watch band.

  
“Are you worried about Justin?” Tucker immediately shook his head, “Stupid me, of course you worry about Justin. But this isn’t about him because you would talk to me about it.” Jennifer’s lips pursed, like she wanted to talk, but still didn’t say anything.

  
Tucker gave her a few moments then moved to stand behind her, placing both hands on her shoulders and gently kneading the muscles. Once she relaxed, he leaned in, placing a kiss on the shell of her ear. “If you can’t talk to me about Brian, I understand. But you need to talk to someone. My suggestion is someone who already knows something about what is bothering you, so that you can get it off your chest, without breaking any confidences.” He kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a supportive squeeze.

***************************************

 

Brian was having the most wonderful dream. He and Justin were all but fucking on the dancefloor at Babylon as the bass in the music thumped in his chest. BAMBAMBAM. There was no discernible space between the two of them as Brian gripped Justin’s ass and hauled him up until his legs were wrapped around Brian’s waist. BAMBAMBAM. The pulse of the music matched the throbbing in his dick when he ground himself… BAMBAMBAM!

  
Brian startled in his bed, only half awake, still hearing Babylon’s music, a painful erection catching on the sheet as he stumbled from the bed. BAMBAMBAMBAM!  
His brain only half processed that he was hearing someone knocking on the door downstairs and no one was answering it. Raking a hand through his hair (making it stick out at odd angles), and rubbing his bleary eyes, he made his way downstairs as the banging came again.

  
“Alright, alright, I’m coming. Where the fuck is everyone?” he muttered, reaching for the knob and flinging the door open.

  
He had expected to see…well he really didn’t know what he expected to see, but the woman standing on the porch dressed in the latest fashion was definitely not it. He noticed immediately that she was sweating as she stepped across the threshold pulling her trunk behind her.

  
She gave him the once over, including his still standing erection. Sliding her sunglasses halfway down her nose revealing the most arresting green eyes he had ever seen, she placed a hand on her cocked hip and promptly said, “Thanks for the welcome, but maybe later. Right now I would like my room and a cold shower. Looks like you could use one too.”

  
Brian still hadn’t moved a muscle when Emmett hurried into the house to show their newest guest to her room.

 

***************************************

 

Ted let Justin into his office and invited him to sit it the chair in front of Brian’s old desk next to Harry Pitts. Justin greeted the lawyer and asked after his family in an absent manner, betraying his confusion over the meeting. Taking his seat he crossed his legs and looked at Ted expectantly.

Ted got straight to the point, indicating that Harry should proceed. “Mr. Taylor,” Ted was grinning from ear to ear, “Mr. Kinney left instructions for me to give this to you with his best regards.” Harry handed him a small stack of papers stapled together with a red signature tab stuck to the last page. Justin read the first few paragraphs, shaking his head, not really understanding what he was reading.

Ted announced excitedly, “It’s a gift! Brian picked it just for you.”

Harry explained, “Mr. Kinney bought the domain name Rage.com. Once you sign the papers it becomes yours. As Mr. Schmidt said, it is a gift from him to you.”

Justin gave him a half smile and signed his name. Upon completion, the lawyer handed him a small envelope with his name on it in Brian’s distinctive scrawl. Harry stood and made his goodbyes as Justin opened the card. Harry was halfway out the door when Justin abruptly stopped him.

“When did he tell you to give this to me?” Justin sounded almost nervous.

Harry shrugged, “About two weeks ago. Why?”

“No reason.” Justin murmured, clutching the card to his chest.

Harry left and Justin made a quick excuse to Ted about a lunch meeting as he put the documents into his messenger bag. Once on the street he hailed a cab and called Daphne for an emergency pow-wow with his best friend. By the time she agreed to drop everything and take the rest of the day off work he couldn’t stop staring at the card. Giving the cabbie her address, he sat back and took a long slow breath before reading the card again.

 

_April 24, 2005_

 

_Change The World._

_With Love,_

 

Brian hadn’t signed his name but Justin recognized the writing. His heart hammered in his chest and his hands shook, making the plain white card flutter until the message blurred.

*****************************

Debbie was on her knees viciously scrubbing the worn out linoleum of the kitchen floor when Carl got home from work. Sighing to himself, he draped his coat over the arm of the couch and sat down to wait until she came up for air or exhausted herself.

  
“Not a fuckin word outta you, ya hear me?” She hadn’t even paused.

  
Carl knew better than to say anything so he took his time removing his shoes and setting them neatly under the coffee table. It wasn’t long before Debbie’s mumbling took on more cohesive form and he began getting snippets of her thoughts like, “sonofabitch” and “hadta figure it’d come to this” and so forth. She shoved chairs away without looking up, methodically dunking her rag in a pail of water and scrubbing for all she was worth. “Fuckin piece of shit world” shaking her head she swiped at the baseboard by the refrigerator. “Why him, huh?” She rinsed the rag again and sat back on her haunches to remove the drawings from the bottom door of the fridge and set them on the table behind her. “Of all the shit moves life coulda given him, it had to be this one.” She attacked the floor again. “It’s just not fair I tell ya!” She ran the back of her sleeve across her face, suspiciously near her nose, and wiped at a new section of the floor. “Sure he’s rich and fuckin arrogant, but he worked so hard for it. Went through so much to get it too!”  
This time Carl heard the sob that followed and went to sit next to her on the wet floor, pulling her into his embrace and letting her cry it out.

****************************************

“No! I will absolutely NOT calm down! I have already talked to two representatives, an office manager and a supervisor, none of which have the authority to do a goddamn thing about my problem before transferring me to someone else to whom I have to explain the entire situation to again! Did they even bother giving you my contract information before passing me off to you? Of course not!”  
Brian had gone upstairs to put on some pants and was now sitting on the end of his bed smoking and eavesdropping on the conversation SHE was having behind closed doors across the hall from his room. For the last ten minutes or so (basically since she arrived), she had been on the phone with the rental car company, trying to file a complaint and get a replacement vehicle. It had started off in tones he could hear but words he couldn’t make out and quickly devolved into shouting as she became increasingly frustrated with the customer service team for having to repeat herself…repeatedly.

  
“I just fucking drove six hundred goddamn miles, in two hundred fucking degree blistering heat, because the sniveling idiot who did the pre-check on that piece of shit didn’t bother to check the air conditioning or the heat. I would bet my fucking paycheck that that ass wipe drop out didn’t even bother to turn the car on. To add insult to injury, when I stopped at one of your facilities in Raleigh, I was told that I couldn’t even get a different car! The location manager wouldn’t get his sleazy ass off his cum stained chair and confirm that there was a fucking malfunction before he offered to, and I quote, “check-up under MY HOOD! I am going to sue your fucking company until I wring every last slime-ball greasy dollar from it and then I am going to burn your fucking Raleigh car lot, with the fucking manager AND his stash of porn, all the way to the fucking ground!”

  
Brian tapped out his cigarette thinking she was nothing like her upper crust first impression. She swore like a sailor and fought like an alley cat. Christ, even he almost blushed at the litany of profanity she let loose before finally ending the call and slamming what could only be her bathroom door as he heard his toiletries clink from the reverberations through the shared wall. When he heard glass breaking on the tile he went into his bathroom to see which of his expensive anti-aging creams he would have to reorder. Except his floor was clean and everything was in its place. That was when he heard her swearing under her breath accompanied by the sound of wet glass scraping ceramic tile then being dumped in a metal trash can followed by an overwhelming cloud of fragrance. It was a pleasant smelling and exorbitantly priced essence oil Brian thought he recognized as being from somewhere in Indonesia.

  
His nose hairs were twitching and it was all he could do not to sneeze from the sheer volume. Using a towel to cover his nose and mouth he began looking for whatever was allowing him to have such perfect knowledge of what was transpiring. He found it low to the floor on the wall behind the toilet. It was an old fashioned cold air return for the heating system. Dropping to his knees, he did what he could to see what he could see. The nutmeg fragrance was even more powerful this close to the vent and as he peeked through the grate he watched the Manolos being kicked off quickly followed by very sheer, lace topped, thigh high hosiery and a nude hued garter belt. Given the limitations of the vent (about a ten inch square) he could only see her legs from just below her knees to the floor. Her skin was pale, though not as pale as Justin’s, and her toenails were painted a deep red. As she moved about the space he caught glimpses of her calves and noted that they were muscled, but not heavily so. She moved out of range then and he heard the shower spray so he hauled his ass off the floor and back to his bed, not once acknowledging his role as a peeping tom.

  
*******************************

 

It seemed that eavesdropping was a decidedly Kinney trait as, at that moment, Gus was doing everything he could to remain quiet while his Mommies talked about him and his Daddy. They weren’t arguing, which he always thought was good, but he most definitely did not like the subject they were discussing. They thought that he was playing a video game in his room with his headphones on, but Gus had discovered last year that when they _offered_ to let him play video games, it was because they wanted to talk about something they didn’t want him to overhear.

  
Therefore, when they did, he started up the game and put the headgear on until one of them closed his door. Then he would lie on the floor with his ear pressed to the two inch space at the bottom. So far they had not learned that they should shut their door as well, since he could hear just about everything they said.

  
“I just think that we should try to do this a little better than we did when we moved here is all I’m saying.” Mommy was doing the voice that meant she was teaching a lesson, but trying to be nice about it.

  
“There is no telling how long it will take for both of us to get new jobs. Again. And our savings can barely cover the move, let alone any time with both of us not working.” Gus could tell Mama was pacing since the volume of her voice changed the closer or farther she got from him. “And before you say Brian will pay, which I already know he would, don’t you think we really need to get off the proverbial food truck? I mean, c’mon Linds, after we talked the other day and decided we were going to work harder on us as a team, don’t you think continuing to let him provide a third of our income would be undermining the whole deal? He already has a much bigger stake in our lives than I would like anyone to have, and I will admit that his money made things a lot easier after we moved here. In fact, as opposed as he was to it, his generosity came as a shock. But if we do another move, and I am not saying I agree to it, but if we do, I think you are right and we really need to do a better job this go round. We need to have everything lined up before we go. Jobs, house, schools, the whole ball of wax. And while I have no problem with Brian paying for Gus’ education, I really believe in my gut that we need to do everything we can to support ourselves without his “anonymous deposits”

  
He heard Mommy get off the bed as she said “How about we start putting out feelers? Make inquiries? Get a better grip on how long it might take?”

  
Mama sighed, “We haven’t even been able to decide what school we want to send him to and that would determine the city we would be living in.”

  
Mommy’s voice went all sweet and falsely chipper, “How about I call galleries in your top choice city and my top choice city and see if I can get a job in either one? If it looks promising then you can see if any firms are hiring.”

  
Gus didn’t hear Mama say anything for a few moments and when Mommy asked what she wanted for lunch he knew the conversation was over. His tummy did a weird little flip, not because he was hungry, but because he knew he would be moving again and it was his own fault.

  
******************************

Ben and Michael each had an extension of the phone pressed to their ears as they talked to Hunter.

  
“So when you come home for Thanksgiving you are gonna hafta tell us all about your new girlfriend.” Michael’s exuberance was somewhat over the top, but he really wanted Hunter to know how accepting he was.

  
Ben refrained from rolling his eyes but couldn’t quite keep his brows in check as he did his best not to laugh outright. “Hey, I thought you might like to come to the center with me and check out some of the renovations that are finally finished. The library is done and so are a couple of the classrooms and the auditorium. Maybe even sit in on one of the support groups I lead and let me know if I’m cool boring or just plain old boring.”

  
Michael did roll his eyes as Hunter gave them a noncommittal answer. “Ma wants to have everyone over, but I keep telling her she doesn’t have enough space anymore, so Ben and I have been looking for someplace else to have it. Emmett’s been real busy lately so it’s been left to us non-party planners to pick up the slack. In fact, he said he is so busy he might not even make it for Thanksgiving at all.”

  
Hunter suspiciously didn’t say anything to that causing Ben’s smile to tighten and his head to tip down. “And this is where you tell us you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving.”

  
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Hunter offered quickly, not wanting to hurt their feelings, “it’s just that Cherie’s family invited me to their house for the holiday and they only live a couple hours away from here, and well…” His words trailed off, unable to come up with any other viable excuse.

  
Michael looked disappointed and wasn’t hiding it well so Ben said, “It is okay, we understand. You are not a kid anymore and you are in a new relationship. We promise not to be too upset if you promise you will come home for Christmas…no excuses.”

  
Hunter snickered “Sure, Dude, whatever makes you happy.” Then he hung up the phone. No doubt to call his girlfriend and let her know the deed was done.

  
As Michael hung up his phone, he said “What would make me happy, is finding out what the fuck happened that he doesn’t want to come home anymore.”  
Ben hugged him, pressing their bodies close together swaying slightly as he whispered in Michael’s ear, “Sex, lots and lots of sex.”

  
*************************************

 

Debbie had finished in the kitchen after she cried herself out and Carl went outside to rake leaves and fill the birdfeeders. She moved on to dusting her menagerie of glass and ceramic doodads. She hadn’t been at it very long before Jennifer knocked on the door, took one look at her still blotchy face and exclaimed, “Jesus, Debbie, what the hell happened?”

  
Debbie waved her Swiffer duster and can of Pledge, “Dusting has my allergies all messed up” she said as she led Jennifer to the living room. Glancing around and noticing the pristine kitchen, perfectly arranged throws and decorative pillows, and Carl’s marked absence, Jennifer crossed her arms over her chest.

  
“Uh huh.” Jennifer was unconvinced. “How about we sit down and tell each other why we are both so upset and see if we can come up with a solution?”

  
Debbie stopped dusting, letting her arms fall dejectedly to her hips. “Is it really that fucking obvious?”

  
Jennifer just gave her sarcastic look, grabbed her shoulders and steered her to the kitchen table. She wasn’t sure how to bring up what she wanted to talk about so she started a pot of coffee while Debbie told her about her meltdown on the kitchen floor.

  
**********************************

 

All three agents, Emmett and Lulah were sitting in the great room at the back of the lodge when the newcomer finally came downstairs and sought them out. They had been discussing her unorthodox arrival/welcome and whether or not she would stay or turn tail and run.

  
“I apologize for my rude behavior,” Her voice from the doorway had all heads turning her direction. “I had a terrible drive down here and I’m afraid I didn’t make a very good first impression. I hope you will forgive me and allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jane Seymour and I am here to help Mr. Kinney.”

  
Emmett was the first to stand and offer a handshake. He introduced himself and the others as he led her into the room and sat her in the chair he had vacated. Lara smiled hugely at the difference in her appearance. Gone were the designer labels and in their place were well-worn and comfortable clothes perfectly suited to their rural surroundings right down to her broken in hiking boots. She noted the lack of make-up and the simple, easy to care for, pixie haircut.

  
_This one is quite the chameleon_ ; she thought to herself and saw a mirroring flicker in Lulah’s eyes as well.

  
“Jane Seymour? Like the wife of Henry the VIII?” Noah asked.

  
She flushed to the roots of her dark mahogany hair then nodded before she began to speak, “My mother was…”

  
“Margery Wentworth.” Brian said from the doorway and Lulah snickered.

  
Jane stood and watched as he prowled into the room holding an unlit cigarette in his hand. She smiled “Mr. Kinney, please accept my apologies for my behavior on my arrival…”

  
Brian waved it off, cocking his head to the side with a smirk, “I think I like you better when you’re swearing Doc. Besides, sorry is bullshit.”

  
She was already shaking her head, “I think there may be a misunderstanding Mr. Kinney, I am not a doctor of any kind.”

  
Curious looks flew around the room but no one commented, not sure how Brian would react to this news. Brian’s eyebrows drew together when he asked, “You were sent by Dr. Anders?”

At her nod he continued, “But you, yourself, are not, in fact, a doctor.”

She shook her head, chewing slightly on her bottom lip. Brian’s face split into a wide grin as he looped his good arm through hers and steered her towards the front door, “Well then, Lady Jane, let’s you and I take a turn about the courtyard.”

  
***************************************

 

Justin was pacing around Daphne’s apartment when she hurried in, stripping her outerwear in a tizzy. Justin rushed to her, waving the card in her face demanding that she tell him what it meant while simultaneously not holding it still enough for her to read. Rolling her eyes, she finally managed to grapple his wrist long enough to pluck the card from fingers and carry it with her to the kitchen while she scrounged for something to drink.

  
“Jesus, Justin, will you calm the fuck down already! Give me a minute, I just ran an entire block! I couldn’t find a closer parking space.” She stuck her right arm and most of her head into the refrigerator digging for a bottle of water she knew had to be in there somewhere.

  
“God! Daph, would you just read it already!” Justin was rolling up and down on the balls of his feet, not quite wringing his hands together when she felt the top of the water bottle brush her fingers. Snagging her quarry, she pulled it off the shelf and glanced down at the card. Her quick movements slowed as her brain processed the writing and she carefully set the bottle on the counter unopened. Flipping the card over to the back then closing it, and eventually rereading the content a couple more times she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Justin growled in frustration, balling his fists, he brought them to his face pressing his fingers into the flesh under his eyes and pulled down until he looked like a melting wax figure.

  
“What do you think it means? God I’m sooo confused right now!” Justin plodded to the couch and threw himself bodily down its length and heaved a dramatic sigh while covering most of his face with his forearm.

  
“Drama much?” Daphne muttered as she scrutinized the card again. “So what part of this has you the most freaked out right now?”

  
Justin peeked out from under his arm, “Huh?”

  
“Well,” she plunked her butt onto the coffee table so she could be near Justin’s head while she explained. “The fact that he said change the world seems pretty straightforward to me, though it is a tall order, even for you. Is it because he didn’t sign it? I mean, he handed it to you, so it’s not like you don’t who it is from. I think it is sweet that he signed it love though. Pretty big step for Brian, but considering he wrote this the day before your “non-wedding” it is not completely out of character. I wonder why he waited so long to give it to you though.”

  
Justin snatched it from her hand and looked at it again. “Two and a half years?! What the fuck!”

  
Daphne shook her head. Justin had obviously not picked up on the date and the queen out was over the message. _Shit_! Realizing this was going to be bigger than she originally thought, she shoved his legs off the couch and sat next to him. “So what was the gift?”

  
“Huh?”

  
“The gift?” she asked. Justin looked confused. She poked him in the ribs, “The gift the card was attached to? Your wedding present?”

  
Justin paled. Digging through his messenger bag on the coffee table he pulled out the paperwork Harry had had him sign at Kinnetik. He checked the documents for the original purchase date and groaned when he found that it was almost a year before the card was written. Showing it to his best friend then explaining how he had acquired them left them both unsure of their meaning.

 

**********************************

  
“It just finally hit me, ya know, just how really awful it coulda been.” Debbie was sitting across from Jennifer, head bobbing as she emphasized her words.

  
Jennifer could understand. “When Justin was in the hospital, I was so glad that it hadn’t been worse, but my mind kept tripping over the fact that he could have died. I was caught somewhere between elation and grief. I would have these wide mood swings and the guilt was almost crushing.”

  
“What on earth would you have to feel guilty about?”

  
“I’m a mom, Debbie. Guilt comes with the job.” Jennifer sipped her coffee.

  
Debbie’s brows drew together. “Care to explain that to me?”

  
Jennifer shrugged, “You know, guilt that I wasn’t more supportive when he came out. Guilt that his Dad was such a shit and it took me so long to leave him. Guilt that I wasn’t there to protect him, stop it from happening.”

  
“Christ! You sound just like Brian.” Debbie said shaking her head. “There was not a goddamn thing you could have done differently that would have changed what happened to that boy! We were all upset about what happened but what’s done is done and there ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.” Debbie’s bracelets rattled as she wagged her finger emphatically.

  
“I know.” Jennifer conceded. “Actually Debbie, Brian is the reason I came here.”

  
“Oh?” Debbie hoped she wasn’t going to be put in a position to lie to her friend, but she knew she would have to be careful what she said after Carl’s warning about sharing information about his case.

  
“I don’t know if you know, but he made me his medical power of attorney. While he was in the hospital this last time, some things came up,” Jennifer shook her head. “Actually I had suspected for quite a while, but his admittance and what I was privy to pretty much confirmed it for me.”

  
Debbie just watched as Jennifer struggled with her own thoughts until finally blurting “I need you to tell me everything you know about him before he and Justin met.”

  
“I do, huh? You sure you want to know? Cuz once I tell you, ya can’t unhear it.” Debbie’s brows rose, waiting for Jennifer’s answer.

  
Staring into her cup, Jennifer figured it was now or never. She had to know everything there was to know if she was going to have any hope of understanding what made Brian who he was. The glimpses she had had over the years and most especially the broken and lonely man she tried to comfort in the hospital all but begged for help. What she had seen for herself was how neatly and methodically everyone, Brian included, had swept things under the rug. No one admitting there was a problem or if it stared them in the face, they managed to chalk it up to something else like his personality or lifelong idiosyncrasies. Well, she was done with that. It was unhealthy and just plain wrong. Brian could have his share of the blame for that, he had his own reasons, but there was no excuse for people that supposedly cared about him.

  
“I already know he was abused, Debbie, and how bad it really was from his medical records.”

  
Debbie’s face drained of color as she sucked in a shaky breath. “If you know, then what do you want from me?”

  
Jennifer squared her slight frame and looked at the redhead directly. “I want you to tell me everything you saw with your own eyes and everything he, or anyone else, may have told you about his past.”

  
“Well, is that all?” Debbie’s sarcasm made Jennifer smile.

 

**********************************************

  
Brian quietly contemplated his companion as they sat on the large, cushioned, freestanding glider near the back edge of the clearing. She hadn't said anything as he led to the swing nor did she seem uncomfortable with his silence. Lighting his cigarette, he took the time to assess what he could about her.

  
Now that she was in regular shoes she barely came to his shoulder. Without the height to lend proportion, she was much fuller of body than she had first appeared. Her very short, dark hair gave an onlooker no choice but to keep coming back to her eyes. When he first saw them they had been bright, glittering green, but now were lighter and flecked with brown and gold. Dark lashes and full brows made her face seem even more doll-like next to the fair and even skin. Her clothes were department store but fit well. Her jeans hugged curves he hadn't noticed when she arrived and she was far more blessed in her bosom, shown by a low scooped tank, and could not be hidden by the faded button down denim shirt she had pulled on over it.

  
"A penny for your thoughts." she said, as she tipped her head back to rest on the back of the swing and pushed with her foot to set them in motion.

  
"I was just thinking that you are a master deceiver." He said it with no small amount of admiration as he offered her his cigarette.

  
Her eyes narrowed, briefly, then she took it from him and sucked in a long drag, holding it in and savoring it, visibly relaxing before blowing out a neat stream of smoke and handing it back. He waved her off and she tilted her head in thanks as she drew on it again. "How did you know I smoke?"

  
Brian turned so he was partially facing her, drawing his left leg onto the glider and leaving only his bare right foot on the ground to continue their swinging. When I came into the great room your eyes went directly to my hand, then when I lit it, you inhaled as if you were doing it."

  
"I hardly think that makes me a deceiver, Mr. Kinney." she taunted as she blew out more smoke.

  
"Brian, please." he said. She nodded, waving her hand for him to continue. "What makes you a deceiver, Lady Jane, is the fact that you use your clothes as a weapon." When she didn't bother to deny it he followed with, "you use them to control what people think about you. You let them assume what they will."

  
She smiled at him then, the first he had seen on her, and it crinkled the corners of her eyes and transformed her face from girl next door pretty, to something else altogether. She was beautiful. Not runway model beautiful, but very alluring, open and child-like with humor. Brian's gut clenched. Suddenly he didn't feel quite so smart. Like maybe, maybe, she had just played him. His forehead wrinkled with the beginnings of anger when she let out a guffaw of laughter and tossed her finished cigarette to the ground.

  
"Before you bite my head off, let us at least acknowledge the fact that you did it too. By deliberately calling me by a name I can't stand then escorting me out here you isolated me from your entourage so you could put me in my place."

  
"And what, pray tell, is that?"

  
She laughed again, setting his belly on edge.

  
"Add to that, you wanted me uncomfortable so you used a decided lack of clothing to do so, even though you had to know that I know you are gay. You are apparently well aware of the fact that you are attractive to females regardless of your preferences. Who's using appearances to control others now? I mean, really Brian, what kind of ad man would you be if you couldn't do that?"

  
Sensing no subterfuge from her, he decided he kinda liked her forthright manner with him and gave her a genuine smile. When she returned it, he fished his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and offered her another which she accepted without hesitation. After lighting her, then his own, he asked "So how does this work?"

  
She didn't miss the slight catch in his voice that let her know he was more uncomfortable with her reason for being there than he had let on.

  
"I am not going to blow smoke up your ass and tell you it will be easy, because it is not. In fact, some of the other people I have gone through this with have told me it was the hardest thing they have ever done. Every single one of them has told me that they hated me at one point or another and meant it. But if you really want to move past this, it is imperative that you trust what I am doing. I won't ask you to trust me, personally, because I have given you no reason to do that yet, but you have to trust that this can and has worked. I will directly reciprocate whatever time and attention you give to this. Therefore, if you work hard at it, so will I. If you don't, I am out of here, because someone else will. I don't have time for half-ass."

  
Brian could respect that, since for most professionals time equaled money. Speaking of which, "What's your hourly rate?" He wasn't sure why he asked that, maybe to see if he could piss her off?

  
"There is no charge, not the way you are thinking of it anyway. My time is your time, whenever and wherever that may be. This means, if you need me at lunchtime or the middle of the night that is when you get me. I only ask for the hour between eight and nine in the evening for myself."

  
Brian was surprised at that but could think of nothing to say. They sat companionably for several minutes and he cautiously lowered his guard enough to allow him to "read" her surface. Oddly enough, she didn't present a very colorful aura. Just a shimmering edge, like a mirage or heat wave from hot pavement. He had never come across anything like it before and it left him somewhat unsure as he closed himself up again.

  
"I only have one rule." She waited until he was looking her in the eye, and then said in all seriousness, "Complete honesty. With me and yourself. You will answer every question that I ask you and I will return the favor."

  
Brian's mouth fell partly open, "That doesn't sound like therapy. I thought shrinks were supposed to pick your brain while sitting behind big desks and judging your every word and telling you it was all because your mom didn't give you enough attention when you were a baby."

  
She smiled again, patting his knee this time, "Then I guess it is a good thing I am not a shrink, because that is completely asinine. For whatever reason, we all make our own pain, our own walls, and our own genius. I am just here to help you figure it all out and help you find your own truth."

  
Brian felt something crack inside of him. Something shifted, rubbed a tender spot that sent something else loose that ricocheted around in his being then set off light everywhere it touched. "How does this..." he gestured with his hand between them, "work?"

  
Her face softened, became almost serene, when she said "If I cannot teach you to fly, I will teach you to sing."

  
Brian recognized the light he felt growing inside him...as hope.

 

*****************************


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

“You are so queer,” he said, frankly puzzled…

J.M. Barrie

 

 

To:BAK@KinnetikKorp.com

From:Zephyr@LibertyComics.com

 

Hey Brian, Haven’t heard from you in a while and all my calls go to Cynthia, so I thought I would drop you a line and check up on you and see if you are feeling any better. Ma says you are probably too busy “recuperating” to talk, and I get that, but I guess I just need to hear from you that you are really okay. I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages and I guess I just miss talking to you. Em’s been real busy and so has Ben since most of the renovations are finished. Thanks for helping us get the old theatre by the way, it’s turning out much better than we could have ever expected. No more getting high in the balcony though…

Hunter has a new girlfriend and has decided to go to her parent’s house for Thanksgiving and I have to admit to being a little peeved about it. Ben says it is only natural and he promised to be here for Christmas, but it leaves us at loose ends, ya know? I haven’t heard yet if the Munchers are going to be here either and if I don’t get my Honeybun fix soon I think I might go crazy. I miss her so much!

Carl gave Ma a cruise for her birthday and they haven’t decided yet where they are going to go, but when they do, I will let you know. Ted moved back to the Pitts but I guess you probably already knew that. DUH! What you most likely didn’t know, is that he broke it off with Blake before your fundraiser, which, by the way, was fantastic! I stayed up all night watching it! I still can’t believe how much money you raked in! And your costume was fabulous!

Anyway, I hope you feel better soon and can make it home for the holiday?

Always Will,

Michael

 

To:BAK@KinnetikKorp.com

From:LinSaP@SBGal.com

 

I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to start off by saying I’m sorry.

I should not have come to see you when I did. You had other things that were more important and I didn’t take that into consideration.

You were right to be angry with me. You were also right that Mel would be pissed.

When I got home she had already drawn up divorce papers. I was so fucking scared, I didn’t even know what to say. Bulldog that she is she had already figured it out before I did and was amazingly understanding about the whole thing.

For years I have struggled to put into words that wouldn’t offend her, how our relationship is. This time, I didn’t have to. She did it for me. More astounding than that, she got it.

She finally, really got it.

Now that she does, I am not so sure that I do. Our parting at the hospital was awful. I don’t want to lose you. Please say you forgive me, and I will try to do better.

Love,

 

Lindsay

 

 

To:BAK@KinnetikKorp.com

From:CynTAK@KinnetikKorp.com

 

Just a note to let you know I have attached a copy of the press release for your perusal. So far, everything is fine.

Our ruse has been sucked up by the media and you can tell Justin, if you talk to him, that he should have been an actor. His little display at the airport was posted almost immediately on YouTube and has since been on the news. Everyone now thinks that you are no longer together so he should be safe enough with his regular security personnel.

Mr. Ryker and I have done due diligence at the new plant and your body double seems to be handling the role well. I have managed to pick out at least an even dozen bodyguards, so you can rest assured that your imitation ass is also well covered.

We should all be back in New York by the end of the week. I was hoping to make it to Justin’s show on Tuesday, but that is no longer feasible.

Speaking of Justin, a little birdie told me that you finally gave him his wedding present.

Care to elaborate on that?

Call me if you need anything.

 

C

 

 

There were a few other emails, but none of them were pressing so Brian shut down his laptop not really sure he wanted to connect with the “family” world just yet. He was feeling a little off center. Whether it was due to his injuries, the newness of where he was at, or the buxom brunette that was here to “shrink” him, he didn’t know. What he did know, was that he was in the middle of fucking nowhere and the only gay man in the vicinity was Emmett.

Not that he had anything against him; just that he wasn’t…no… he wasn’t going to go there.

His stomach was turning over again and acid was creeping up the back of his throat. He sucked in a quick breath through his nose and clenched his teeth, willing the anxiety to back the fuck off! He rose and leaned over to brace both hands on the desk while he ducked his head and ignored the flop sweat that broke out on his skin. He pretended he didn’t notice the quivering in his arms the tighter he gripped with his fingers. He tried to force himself to relax and only succeeded in making his legs weaker and his head to pound. Squeezing his eyes closed as hard as he could set off a keening in his mind that threatened to send him to his knees in abject pain. His skin felt too tight again, a feeling he was becoming very familiar with over the last few weeks, that made him want to tear his hair out and release the pressure in his skull. He was panting, his sinuses were swollen and dripping and he could only envision a kaleidoscope of dizzying colors swirling and pulsing maniacally behind his lids. He was losing control. He couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t let that happen. Was doing everything he could to keep it from happening.

All of a sudden, his panting brought him the scent of nutmeg. He didn’t even think about it, he just latched onto it because it was something outside of his internal agony. He focused on bringing as much of the fragrance as he could into his belabored lungs and analyzing the warm, earthy tones. After a few moments his brain got on board with his intentions and produced a wonderful susurration of deep comforting sounds followed by a gently undulating vision of caramel colors.

“Breathe” he heard. “Focus on my voice.”

The primal part of his brain, upon realizing he was not alone, sent out the “flight” signals just as he felt a small warm hand press firmly to the center of his back and he flinched. It was all he could do not to flee the room in humiliation. That is, if his legs would have cooperated.

“Don’t quit now, it’s almost over.”

He strained to focus on the voice. Anything to get him out of his own head.

“Breathe, Brian. As deep as you can, as slowly as you can.”

The hand on his back was lightly stroking across his shoulder blades and he tried to mimic her breathing pattern. His first gulps of air sounded shaky and desperate to his own ears. He felt her shift to his side, ducking her head under his arm with her right shoulder pressed into his armpit.

“That’s it, you’re getting there. In…out.”

She place her left hand in the center of his chest, causing his fucked up mind to imagine a nebulous link between it and the one still on his back as she rubbed both of them upwards on his inhale, then down on his exhale.

“Good…again. In…out.”

The hands followed, warming a track from his collarbone to his navel in the front and shoulders to waist in the back. Several minutes passed and he breathed easier, his shaking down to an occasional tremor, and he was able to loosen his grip on the desk. He was not sure, however, if his legs would hold him if he stood upright. With his eyes still closed he became aware that his stance and grip had set off the pain in his bad arm.

As if sensing his need, he felt the smaller body cross in front of him and brace her left shoulder under his right arm, wrapping a supportive arm around his waist offering to take some of his weight if necessary. “When you stand upright, you will most likely feel light headed. That is normal. If you need to puke, just do it. Don’t fight it. It is normal too.”

The hands were rubbing again. Soothing circles front and back, bringing some calm. He stood slowly, trying not to let on how badly shaken he was by this attack. The wave of dizziness she had mentioned rolled over him in sickening waves, bringing chills and a drenching sweat with it.

“Breathe…that’s it…you’re doing good.”

Her body pressed into his side, nudging him to take a sideways step toward where he knew the bed to be. He inhaled deeply, feeling his chest loosen a little, as his head tilted of its own volition towards the sound of her voice emanating from the vicinity of his right pectoral. He felt her breath there and the heat of her forehead as it pressed into his shoulder joint.

“Take a step.” She ordered, but not harshly.

His subconscious obeyed.

He took the next step without being told and he felt her smile. _God! I feel like such an idiot that that makes me feel better!_ He thought to himself with an internal grimace of embarrassment.

He faltered, briefly, as his shuffling foot caught on the rug and he canted precariously to the right, unable to stop his momentum, but she stayed there, bracing her feet and countering with her own weight until he could regain his balance. Once righted, it was only two more steps to the bed and he felt like singing hallelujah praises when he felt the mattress edge. He turned and dropped his ass onto it, forgetting that his arm was over her shoulders and inadvertently pulling her much shorter frame over and mashing her face into his chest.

Not sure yet if he was willing to let go, he finally opened his eyes and immediately squinted at the too bright light. She took it in stride though, angling her lower half around so she was sitting next to him on the bed, she laced her fingers through the ones dangling now over her right shoulder. Brian didn’t object.

“Would you like me to turn the lights off?” she asked while looking straight ahead, but rubbing the pad of her thumb over his palm with just enough pressure to have him focusing on it. He didn’t answer, just kept taking deep breaths, trying to corral the fear and embarrassment that was threatening to overtake him.

She made to stand up and do it anyway, but he pressed her back down with the arm on her shoulder to keep her there. A wordless plea for her to stay as he stared at nothing in the middle distance and taking comfort from the gentle, repetitive path of her thumb.

 

***********************************************

 

“The first time I saw him, I thought to myself, this is the kid Michael won’t shut up about?” Debbie chuckled with the memory. “I mean, I expected a big, beefy, jock the way Michael had been singing his praises and how nobody picked on him anymore since Brian stood up for him. Instead I’m looking at this scrawny bean-pole in pants that were too short and a threadbare t-shirt that had seen better days.”

Jennifer was a little thrown by that but let Debbie continue at her own pace.

“So I say to him, ‘I just finished making dinner, ya wanna stay?’ and the kid looked all embarrassed, nodding his head. So we sit down, the three of us, and I swear that kid’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw all that food. He literally turned green. I don’t think he had ever seen that much food in one place before. He turns to Michael and says, ‘Hey, Mikey, is today a holiday or something?’ and gives him this shit-eatin grin.”

Debbie shook her head, “I swear to God, Jen, I fell in love with that kid right then and there.”

Jen cocked her head, “Was he malnourished?”

Debbie didn’t know why she felt a little offended at that question but hastened to add, “He was tall, even then. Fourteen and he already had me beat by a couple of inches. So I could see why Michael looked up to him…literally.” She chuckled at her own joke.

Sobering, she said, “About two weeks later, I hear the dog next door barkin’ like crazy in the middle of the night, fucker won’t shut up, so I get outta bed to go holler at him from the back porch and lo and behold, guess who’s passed out on the stoop covered in his own blood?”

Jennifer wrapped her hands around her mug just to give them something to do. “Brian.”

Debbie stabbed the table with a brightly lacquered fingernail, “That’s right, Brian. Scared the fuckin’ shit outta me till I realized it was him. Not that you could tell by his face, mind you, I just happened to recognize that bracelet he always wears, the one with the shells.”

“Anyway, I got his skinny ass awake and into the kitchen where I cleaned him up. The whole time he’s tellin me he’s fine, and tryin to hold back the tears.” Debbie’s voice took on a choked sound, like she herself was holding the tears at bay. “But in my gut I knew, I just fucking knew, that the tears weren’t because he was hurt. They were because I saw him like that. Because he needed help and didn’t know where else to go.”

Debbie cleared her throat and decided she didn’t care that it was early afternoon and rustled up a bottle of liquor and two short glasses. Plopping back into her seat she set one in front of Jennifer and unscrewed the cap. As she filled their glasses she continued. “So I put him to bed on the couch. The next day is Saturday so I call in sick and run out to the store and get him some clothes that fit. Nothin fancy, but at least he won’t look so goofy. I get back and he’s still out but Michael is sitting in the chair in his Captain Astro pajamas just staring at him while he sleeps. By the time I make it to the kitchen, he’s hot on my heels, bombarding me with questions about ‘when did he get here? Why didn’t you wake me up? What happened to him?’ I can’t get a fuckin word in edgewise, ya know?”

They both took a sip of the stronger stuff, letting the potent heat warm the cold places inside them.

“So I take my son into the laundry room and try to explain that the world sometimes does shitty things to good people and that all we can do is try to make it better in whatever way we can.” She gulped a large portion of her brew then. “I can’t tell you, Jen, how many times I patched that kid up. A few times I had to take him to the hospital. He was terrified of them back then. He never said, but I figure it was because he had spent considerable time in them before he met Michael.”

“You would be right.” Jennifer offered in an oblique confirmation of Debbie’s assumption of previous abuse.

“How long?” the redhead whispered.

Jen sighed, “From what I can tell, about kindergarten.”

Debbie’s hand flew to her chest, covering the pain that stabbed at her heart. “I didn’t know.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she knocked back the rest of her drink and refilled her glass. Jennifer’s hair swayed as she tossed her head. “I didn’t either, until recently.” She sipped her drink more frugally than Debbie was inclined to and asked “What do you know about his family?”

Debbie snorted, “For that, honey, you’re gonna need another drink.”

 

 

**************************************

 

Justin woke from his nap feeling energized. He should have been hungover, since Daphne’s solution had been to get him drunk, but oddly enough he had come across the answer to his dilemma in his inebriated dreams.

It didn’t matter that Brian had waited so long to give him the gift, it only mattered that he did. Justin had dreamt of Rage taking on the world and setting things to rights for all mankind and Justin had awoken with a newfound purpose for his artistic outlet.

Brian was smart like that, he mused. The comic book had allowed him and Michael to address real world problems in a manner that would be accessible to everyone and had made impressive waves all the way to Hollywood. The movie didn’t get made, so Justin’s dream of Rage becoming a household name was never realized, but Brian had given him another way to do that. With technology, most especially the internet, growing astronomically every year, Brian had foreseen just how powerful it could become and had secured a foothold for Justin should he choose to use it to speak to millions of people worldwide.

It was a daunting task, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, Justin felt the uneasiness and self-doubt of the last year or so drain away, leaving a bright core of ambition and a direction for his creative juices to flow. He was so sure in fact that he woke up a very hungover Daphne to tell her about his new plan.

 

 

*****************************************

 

 

Jane gave him thirty minutes of quiet, sitting next to him on the bed without addressing his panic attack, to allow him time to fully recover. She made no direct eye contact and in fact didn’t look at him at all after getting him calm and seated, just maintained their connection physically with her hand laced in his. She let nothing into her mind but peace, enjoying his presence and the fact that he allowed her to continue touching him. It had been nonverbal, of course, but it was most definitely a blessing that she wouldn’t have to overcome that hurdle too and whether he admitted it or not, it was a subconscious admission of at least a small amount of trust.

She felt the moment he decided he had wallowed enough just before his fingers slipped from hers. His hand brushed across her shoulder then down her spine to rest on the bed behind her. He leaned on it, bringing his face nearer to her ear. “What brought you up here?” She felt his breath wash over cheek and his body heat envelope her left side. When she turned to look at him, his face was mere inches from hers and his half-closed lids and dark lashes hid his eyes from her. The tip of his tongue poked out, briefly coasting over his top lip before he pulled the bottom one between his teeth and just the corner of his mouth curled into a sexy grin. He peeked at her from under his lashes, a sultry glint that hinted at intention.

“Wow, Brian, I’m impressed.” She said as she braced her palms on her thighs then stood up directly in front of him so he would have to look up at her. “I think you might even have followed up on that if you thought it would get you out of the conversation you think is coming.”

His face fell, all pretenses cast aside as he flopped back onto the bed. She chuckled at his predicament as she walked around the bed to be closer to his head and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I came up here because I thought you might like to have those itchy, annoying stitches taken out.” Her breath fluttered the fine hairs at his temple and their positions put his face directly into the crook of her neck giving him an unobstructed field of flesh warmed nutmeg fragrance that settled somewhere deep in his gut with a return of the undulating caramel waves in his mind.

He didn’t understand this new calm. It was scary because it was new, but he wasn’t afraid of it. It left an odd tide of relaxation and he indulged himself by turning his nose closer to her skin and inhaling slowly as he nodded.

She stood and went to the bathroom and he was momentarily bereft. He didn’t have time to analyze the feeling though since she returned quickly with a damp washcloth and kicked off her shoes. Pulling a small leather case, about the size of a credit card, from her pocket she climbed onto the bed to sit cross-legged near his hip. She held the cloth to his side for several minutes then set it on her knee. He watched her as she opened the case and pulled out the tiniest pair of scissors on the planet. They were so small in fact, that even she, of the small warm hands, could only fit the very tips of her thumb and middle finger into the loops to operate them. Next came an equally tiny pair of tweezers and Brian could only laugh at the incongruity.

“Who did you steal those from, the Borrowers?” he asked.

She didn’t even look up from her task as she snipped the knot off the first stitch. “No, the Lilliputians.”

Another snip. “How old is your son?” Snip.

“Just turned seven. How did you know?”

“Statistics. Boys lean towards The Borrowers and girls gravitate to The Little People.” Snip.

“Who is he staying with while you are here?” Snip.

“His mothers.”

She had paused for a nanosecond, but he caught it because he was watching her so intently.

Snip. “How old is yours?”

“Which one?” Snip.

“How many do you have?”

“Three boys, four girls.” Snip.

Brian couldn’t hide the shock on his face and was glad she didn’t see it because he had heard the pride in her voice and he didn’t want to offend her.

“Aren’t you going to make some snide comment or ask me if I am Catholic?” Snip.

“No. I was just going to ask how you manage that much chaos. I sometimes what to stab myself in the eye with a fork by the time Gus goes home to his moms.” Snip.

This drew a hum of sympathy from her as she snipped again. “The Five P’s.”

Brian braced himself up on his elbows so he could see her better. “What?” Snip.

She smiled but she didn’t look up from her task. “Preparedness, planning, patience, practice, and lots of Prozac.” Snip.

Brian laughed hard enough that she had to stop what she was doing because he was no longer still.

“Prozac, Lady Jane?”

She gave him a huge smile then and let him in on the joke, “Well I’m not p-p-p-p-perfect.” She said, making fun of herself and her five p’s.

For some reason, her answer, combined with the completely innocent look on her face when she delivered it, set him off on a new round of boisterous laughter that soon had tears leaking down his cheeks. By the time he settled onto his back again she was shaking her head at his behavior. She snipped the last stitch and covered the area with the now cold washcloth in retribution causing Brian to squirm.

“Hey, whatcha do that for?”

_As if he didn’t know_. She rolled her eyes at him but said in a sickly sweet voice, “Well, Mr. Kinney, your stitches had all dried out again so I am trying to moisten them enough that they won’t pull too much when I remove them or damage your perfectly golden tan.”

Tongue in cheek, Brian waved his hand in a kingly gesture, “Since you put it that way…you may proceed.”

She gave a very inelegant snort, and smeared antibiotic ointment all over the area she was working on. She then picked up the teeny tiny tweezers and tugged gently but firmly on the first stitch until it was free of his skin and deposited it on the cloth.

“So when people ask if you are Catholic, what do you tell them?”

Another stitch freed, “I tell them, I am so devoutly Catholic that all my children’s fathers are priests.”

Brian was gob-smacked. He felt like he had just stepped on a land mine and didn’t know if he should call for help or run like hell and hope for the best.

_But I have to know…shit! I gotta know_.

His voice betrayed his uncertainty when he quietly asked, “Is that true…?”

She set aside another stitch and looked at him very seriously. “No… but it keeps the fuckers from asking any more impertinent questions.” Then she delivered an evilly shit eating grin that had Brian flopping back to the mattress admitting defeat.

“Score one for you Milady.” he said, while shaking his head and chuckling to himself at his own stupidity for walking into it.

She dipped her head and offered a mock curtsy, the best she could do while sitting anyway, and said, “Why thank you, kind sir, I live only to please thee.” Her wildly batting eyelashes and simpering demeanor reeked of jovial sarcasm.

Brian rubbed a hand over his chest in a lazy sweep as he stared at the ceiling and said, “You are. So. Fucking. Weird.”

Jane would have taken offence, had she not heard the underlying and satisfying veneration in his voice when he made his decree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comment/kudos keep me motivated. Keep them coming and i will keep positng.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

 

Like the ticking crocodile, time is chasing after all of us.

 

J.M. Barrie

 

Lindsay was carefully constructing what she was going to say to Melanie when she got home from work. She had to make sure that whatever she came up with to impart her news sounded genuine in an off the cuff, oh-by-the-way manner. Otherwise Melanie would never agree to live that close Brian again. She had been cleaning the house like a crazy woman since the phone call this morning, after which she had shot off an email to Brian. She took extra care in the bathtub shaving, waxing, tweezing and generally taking care of some things she had let slide over the last couple of weeks. She had even arranged for their friend Linda to “spontaneously” call Melanie and invite the kids to sleep over. She hoped if she played her cards right this time, they would be back in the States by Christmas.

**********************************

Emmett heard it first. He was kneeling on the grass collecting the last of the tomatoes from their vines as it drifted over the yard and reverberated through the still air. He turned, unsure of whence the sound had come, noticing as he did so that Marc had also frozen in place looking around over their heads for the source of the anomalous noise. Noah halted just outside the door of the barn as he became aware of it and

Lara, seeing them all go still and staring from the side yard, drew her handgun and crept around the corner of the house in a sneak attack on whatever foe had them motionless. They were all staring up at the open second floor window with varying degrees of disbelief on their faces. Seeing no imminent threat, she holstered her weapon, wondering what the fuck had them all looking like they had seen a UFO. Then it came agaHin, a full throated, uninhibited, infectiously long, peal of laughter that had grins and accompanying chuckles breaking out all across the yard.

 _Jeez Louise_ , Lara thought to herself as she rolled her eyes.

“Nut up fellas!” she hollered “It is not the second coming!”

Her taunt seemed to pull them out of their collective spell and send them scurrying back to work. She returned to her sentry duties quickly though, doing her best to hide the grin she couldn’t contain.

********************************

 

Jane was putting away her Lilliputian devices when Aunt Lulah rapped the doorframe to get their attention. Both dark heads turned her way and she was struck by the easy manner that infused them. Gone was the dark, brooding, cloud that had been haunting Brian since his arrival. His face was relaxed and his eyes alight with merriment.Jane offered her a half-smile of inquiry, looking almost childishly small next to Brian’s prone body.

“If it is not too much trouble, I would like a few minutes of Brian’s time. Dinner won’t be ready for a couple of hours yet and I’m hoping he could help me with something. Everyone else is busy.”

Jane eyed her briefly. It had been couched as a question, but it was not a request. When the older woman nodded her direction, indicating that she should come too, Jane unfolded herself from the bed and slipped into her boots. Brian gave one last pass of his hand over his torso before sitting up and leaning for the socks he had dropped on the floor by the bed.

Aunt Lulah asked them to meet her downstairs before making herself scarce.

Jane had one foot braced on the bed tying up her shoe when Brian said, “You coming?”

She heaved an internal sigh that he wouldn’t just come out and say; _Would you come with me_?

“Would you like me too?” she wasn’t going to let him off easy.

His eyes clouded over as she switched feet and gave him a moment to think about it. When she had both feet planted on the floor and his were encased in old running shoes he went to the door and gestured for her to precede him. She stood her ground though, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms in front of her chest. Their standoff lasted a good minute while Brian debated whether or not to push the issue or simply leave without her. In the end he decided he had liked her company, and if nothing else, whatever Aunt Lulah needed done would pass the quicker for having Jane’s smart mouth close by.

Giving her an aggrieved expression, he capitulated. “May I please have the pleasure of your company on this fine, beautiful afternoon, Milady?” as he crooked his elbow, offering to escort her in a gentlemanly fashion. It was not quite as effective as he wanted it to be, since he was still shirtless, but hey, she had to take what she could get.

Jane knew how much it cost him every time he had to ask for something so she shot him a smile that was all teeth and dropped into a real curtsy this time. Accepting his arm in a ladylike manner they went side by side down the steps and continued onto the front porch where Aunt Lulah stood holding an old picnic hamper.

She inclined her head for them to follow and Jane made to take back possession of her arm, but Brian kept it close to his side all the way around the lodge until they saw Aunt Lulah duck into the giant dog house. Brian halted abruptly about fifteen feet away from it and Jane studied his face as it went completely blank and his eyes stayed riveted on the doorway. It was the first time she had been on the back side of the property so she had no idea what could cause such a large shift in his demeanor.

She didn’t have long to wait.

As she turned back to the mini-lodge a ginormous, black, very hairy dog emerged. She went stock still when its head dipped low and golden eyes assessed them both. It slunk towards them, detouring in a wide arc to the side until they could hear it behind them.

Brian’s voice was low and deceptively calm when he hooked his index finger through hers between them. “Be very still.”

She jerked her head his direction, ready to tell him he was absolutely crazy, when a big nose was shoved deep into her crotch from behind and a hot breath was huffed out between her legs. She let loose an affronted squeal and would have turned around, but Brian wrapped an arm about her waist, quickly tugging her into his good side and holding her still. He spoke quietly out of the corner of his mouth, “I told you to be still! Just let him do his thing. With any luck Lulah will come back and keep us from being eaten.”

“Easy for you to say, you didn’t just get biblically acquainted with him.”

He glanced down at her, tucked under his shoulder and noticed for the first time the deep crimson blush that only seemed to get darker. He opened his mouth to offer some words of condolence when he shot up onto his toes as the dog repeated the action on his own posterior. It did absolutely nothing for his manhood that he was unable to quell the squeak of surprise that shot from his lips right before he turned the same shade she did.

Jane squeezed his arm, holding him in place as she stage whispered, “Just let him do his thing!”

The dog bounded around into their line of vision just as Lulah emerged still toting the wicker hamper. He sat on his haunches at her feet, his furiously wagging tail kicking up a small cloud of dust in its wake. Lulah opened the top of the container and let him stick his nose inside and root around in it for few moments before pulling it away and walking towards the Brian/Jane statue.

“His name is Bear,” she said, stopping in front of them, “for obvious reasons. Cop a squat.”

She sat down on the grass, hamper in her lap and Bear sat obediently next to her. The Brian/Jane statue eyed both the human and the dog with twin expressions of wariness. Slowly they broke apart and sank down. They were both unwilling to give up the tenuous safety of physical contact so they silently and un-admittedly ended up shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip on the ground. Jane scanned their foursome as she sat across from Lulah, noting that Bear was now taller than Brian by a good couple of inches. She was distracted from her perusal when she heard a mewling sound and Bear turned his attention back to the basket, nosing open the top. Lulah made a pssht sound and the behemoth settled onto his belly, head resting on his gargantuan forepaws as she reached in and extracted what looked to Brian to be a child’s fur mitten and placed it in Jane’s hands. He didn’t connect the dots until Lulah brought forth a second and put it into his own palm. It was warm and started to squirm, almost causing him to drop it in surprise. Bear’s warning huff, had him cupping the bundle more carefully as a tiny pink paw stretched out and feathered his skin.

“Awwwwe, they are adorable!” Jane oozed in high pitched delight as her puppy tried to suckle her finger.

Brian looked back at his, which was content for the moment to yawn lazily. Unbidden was the thought; _kind of acts like Justin after a good fucking_.

Lulah explained, “Queenie had a litter of twenty-two pups the day you got here Brian. Mable is doin’ her best as wet nurse but these two don’t seem to be gettin’ enough.”

She pulled two tiny baby bottles of white liquid from the hamper and handed one to each of them. Jane immediately stuck hers into the little mouth and the puppy began eating comfortably. Brian only had the use of one hand so he laid the puppy in the crease of his outstretched legs and duplicated her action with the bottle. Unfortunately, his puppy went at the nipple with such gusto that he couldn’t stay latched and managed to end up with more milk on its muzzle and Brian’s jeans than in its belly. _Yep, eats like Justin too_.

“Mine’s defective, trade me.” Brian said to Jane as he shoved his puppy filled palm in her direction.

Jane’s face took on a horrified expression as she pulled hers closer and leaned her torso away from him. “Nooo, Ella is a good little girl I’m not trading with you!”

Brian screwed his face up in annoyance but put the mewling critter back in his lap where it promptly tried to move around and ended up flipped onto its back exposing a pink belly and male genitalia. Bear rose, circling around behind the pair and wedging his head between Brian and Jane’s torsos until his head was resting on their touching thighs and he could keep better watch of the goings on. Brian looked to Aunt Lulah for help but she just grinned at him and left, leaving the basket behind. Bear cocked an eyebrow at him as if to say, get on with it, so Brian gave his attention back to the matter at hand. Heaving a capitulatory sigh, he picked up the bottle again and plugged it into the tiny mouth.

“Well Duke, we better figure this out or we’re both toast.”

It took about thirty minutes for the bottle to empty, but the puppy finally heaved a contented burp and pissed on Brian’s leg.

“Not one fucking word, Honeycutt.” Brian warned as Emmett crossed the yard carrying tomatoes.

 

****************************************************

 

 

“I can’t say that I know them really well. I never met Jack and have only had a handful of conversations with Joan. The one time I was in the same room with his sister Claire I swear I woulda decked her had Carl not been standing there too.” Debbie’s animosity was evident so Jennifer asked what the story was. The redhead explained how Claire’s piss ant son accused Brian of molesting him and how he had repeatedly called his uncle a perverted faggot. It was the first time Jennifer had heard about it and when Debbie came to the part where Justin saved the day she was supremely proud of her son.

“You know I used to think that all mothers were sacrosanct. That they all loved their children like I love Michael. It wasn’t until Ted told me about Joan’s visit to Kinnetik and Brian’s reaction that I fully realized that some people should have no right to procreate.”

Jennifer wasn’t sure she wanted that story but, in for a penny in for a pound as they say. “What happened?”

Debbie poured herself another shot, “It was my fault…” setting the bottle aside and closing her eyes for a moment. “Deb?” “I just…it still hurts, ya know?” she heaved a breath to compose herself. “We had just lost Vic and Brian finally told me he had had cancer. I was upset and worried so like the good Catholic girl I am, I went to church to light candles for them and send up a prayer. When I was leaving, I ran into Joan and I thought, maybe, telling her about it would help her see how much she loved him and how close she came to losing him. I hoped it would be enough to repair their relationship enough so they could at least be friendly.” She downed her shot and poured another. “Unfortunately she went to his office to basically tell him it was God’s way of punishing him for being gay.”

Jennifer gasped. Of all the things she had thought Debbie might say, that had never crossed her mind.

“Yeah, awful right? Apparently Brian started shouting so loud the entire company heard before Joan left crying that his soul was going to burn in hell for all eternity.”

Jennifer took a healthy swallow of her liquor, grimacing as it burned its way to her gut. “Has he talked to her since then?”

Debbie shook her head, “I couldn’t say. In fact, I’m probably the last person he would come to about it.”

Jennifer felt Debbie’s regret weigh on her and vowed to keep Brian’s well-being at the forefront of her mind at all times when speaking to him so as not to inadvertently remind him of bad memories.

“I gotta tell ya, Jen. I spent just as much time pissed off at him over some of the stupid shit he dragged Michael into over the years as I did wondering how anyone could hurt a kid that so obviously craved love.”

“Justin told me Brian said…” Jennifer started to say when Debbie’s pointed finger cut her off mid-sentence.

“Oh I know what the Great Kinney said, but I’m here to tell you there is no one, and I do mean no one that wants to be loved more than him. But where he came from those words were followed with fists and fights and neglect. Those words, those feelings, terrified him.”

“But the wedding…”

“I didn’t say he couldn’t love, just that it scared the shit outta him.” “Do you think that’s why…”

“Nope, I think Lindsay put it in his head that Justin was better off in New York, knowing that Brian would run with it because there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his Sunshine.”

 

*********************************************************

 

Gus was not a stupid kid. He knew his moms were going to have a secret talk the minute Mama told him he and Jenny were going to Linda’s house for a sleepover. It came so fast after the conversation he eavesdropped on that it could be for no other reason than they didn’t want to risk an interruption. Deciding for himself that they were not going to sneak one by him he waited until they were both distracted getting Jenny’s stuff together and ran through the house planting the extra special, really real, radio walkie talkies his Dad gave him for his birthday.

He climbed on the kitchen counter and put one on the top of the refrigerator way in the back, another one under the sideboard in the dining room, one in the crack behind the couch, and another one he secreted under his moms’ bed.

Feeling smug that he covered any place they might talk, he bounded back up the stairs to grab the last one and shoved it in his backpack with his clothes, headphones, notepad, and flashlight.

 

* * *

 

 

Daphne was leafing through the documents comprising Brian’s gift as a headache pounded through her hungover brain. Justin was rattling away with his ideas for taking a break from the pretentiousness of the New York art scene and diving back into Rage for a couple of months to see if he could make a go of it. He was really talking to himself, but she didn’t mind as she tried to understand the second to last paper in the pile. It was incongruous to the rest of the papers, but Justin had signed them so he must have read them…right?

“So,” he was saying, “I think Michael and I should do a special edition, with a limited run, so we can charge more for the issue and I can use the capital to get started on the website. I think if we do two of these in one year, we could have the website fully engaged in eighteen months, so I really need to…”

Daphne pointed to the page that had caught her attention, “I think Brian already took care of that.”

“Huh?” Justin glanced at the paper, rereading it for good measure as his face lit up. “Son of a Bitch! How many times have I told him…” His voice trailed off, but he seemed happy despite his irritated outburst. “Get dressed!” he implored his friend.

“What? Why?” Daphne whined, trying to burrow back under the covers and sleep off her aching head.

Justin paused in the doorway, waving the sheaf of documents at her. “The next clue is at the bank; I want to get there before they close!”

She groaned. There would be no stopping him until he had his answers and she knew it. Heaving a disgusted sigh at herself for mentioning it, she threw back the blanket and did what she could to make herself presentable.

* * *

 

 

“Hey! Martinez, Hale, I think I caught one of yours.” Detective Marsh traversed the busy bullpen of the Homicide Department as Lieutenant Martinez leaned back in her chair. Bobby Hale stopped typing into his computer when Marsh handed his partner a case file. Sam opened it, taking in the glossy photos of a dead body that had been worked over pretty harshly before death.

“Damn!” she swore, rubbing a hand over her tired eyes before shoving the file across the desk to Bobby who, upon turning it so he could see better, repeated her exclamation.

Marsh wasted no time in passing the responsibility, “Since the DB is yours, it’s officially off my desk now.”

Sam waved a hand in dismissal, currently unwilling to take the time to give the slacker a dressing down.

Glancing at her watch, she braced her forearms on her desk and asked the question of the day. “Now or later?”

Bobby considered it for a moment, shrugging. “If we confirm now, we can still leave reasonably on time, then pick it up first thing in the morning.”

Sam stood up, retrieving her weapon from her desk drawer as Bobby did the same and grabbed the file. As they walked through the parking garage, so they could drive rather than walk to the morgue, Bobby said, “You don’t think this is going to be quick, do you.”

Sam let him into the car, not answering until she slid behind the wheel and turned the ignition over, letting the rumbling vibrations of the muscle car soothe her for a moment as she always did. “It’s Saturday night, two weeks before a major holiday, in New York fucking City. No way are we getting home before ten.”

Bobby knew this of course, just as he knew they would do the job anyway and hoped they managed a few hours of sleep before the next call came in.

* * *

 

 

Brian sat across the dining room table from Jane trying to figure her out. They had come in when Emmett called everyone to dinner. Noah stayed outside, taking over his shift as sentry and the rest of them had trooped in to wash up for the meal. Brian had carried the puppy basket into the lodge a tried to hand it off to Lulah, but she just shook her head and told him they were now his responsibility. He had then turned to Jane and Lulah cut him off again, saying that everyone else had chores and jobs to do except him and now he had one.

Mentioning that he could just put them back in the dog’s house she had clucked her tongue at him and agreed that, yes, he could do that. He made it all the way to the door before he heard her say, “Being the runts of the litter that they are though, they’ll probably be dead by the end of another week. But it’s your decision.”

They all just left him standing there as they moved to the dining room, no one offering to take over the task of caring for them or help him do it. When Bear wandered over and nudged his hand holding the handle of the hamper, Brian figured he could wait until the big dog wasn’t around to see him return the pups. 

The hamper was now on the floor near his chair and Bear was under the table with his big head on Brian’s lap. He was busy pushing the stew around in his bowl as he watched Jane entertain the rest of the group with stories of her family and friends. When she made a military reference, Marc jumped in and they had an easy discussion of strategies, tactics, and the current direction of some overseas development Brian had heard about recently.

Jane seemed comfortable talking to anyone about anything, easily engaging Lara in medical jargon he didn’t care about and Emmett with her favorite recipes and his catering business.

Brian ate a few bites of the stew, it was really good, and took a second piece of crusty bread from the platter not realizing how hungry he was. Bear’s head inched closer to Brian’s crotch making him a little uncomfortable. To keep the peace, he tore the bread in half and dunked it into the gravy of the stew and passed it to the dog. Brian was more than surprised when Bear very delicately accepted the treat without once letting his lips or teeth touch Brian’s fingers. After that, the dog lay down on his bare feet and began to snore.

Feeling himself relax a little, he returned his attention to Jane. He couldn’t put his finger on _why_ he felt compelled to figure her out, just that he did. He absently ate while he watched her interact with everyone hoping to glean some insight for himself. He wasn’t really listening to the conversation anymore, just watching how she worked them individually and as a group. He noticed that the more passionate she felt about something the more animated her hands became. She would stick out a finger to make a point or gesture widely when making a pronouncement. Her facial expressions were open and genuine, her eyes speaking volumes in tune with what she was saying.

Brian used their distraction to take a read of everyone around the table. Shutting out the sound he focused on each person. Marc was the easiest. He exuded a relaxed and easy respect for her that still carried the tinge of newness, but it was there just the same. Lara, usually very reserved, had also fallen under the spell of camaraderie and was smiling at their newest member. Emmett was obviously enthralled, no news there, and continued to pepper her with questions from seemingly nowhere. Brian read very little from Lulah until Jane inquired about the dogs and the woman melted.

“I assume you train them since you allow them to breed, do you mind if I ask for what purpose?”

Lulah used the ladle to serve Brian more stew even though he didn’t ask for it. Scowling, he grabbed another slice of bread and tucked in while he listened.

“Most of them get trained to hunt since that is still a big thing here and some of them I train in search and rescue for the Rangers that service the National Park around us. You would be surprised how many people managed to get themselves lost or hurt or both every year around here.”

“Do you do general S &R or do you train specialists?” Jane asked while buttering her fourth slice of bread.

“Most are specialists.” Lulah said, “Bear is somewhat unique in his genetic makeup and I have found that when bred with Queenie, the offspring are naturally inclined and equipped for the tasks required.”

Jane took a stab at it. “I am going to guess; Newfoundland, Saint Bernard, aaannndd…Tibetan Mastiff?”

Lulah beamed at her, “Mostly, yeah. He’s also got a bit of Dane in him, though you wouldn’t know it by his shorter legs. Queenie now, she is Great Dane and Tosa Inu with a bit of Cane Corso not too far back.” 

Jane raised her brows in interest. “Wow, I could see where they would be suited for the life. Dogs with those kinds of natural abilities would be easier to train for the demands of S&R since it is their instinctive proclivity anyway.”

Pride shone in Lulah’s demeanor as she settled into the subject matter. “You would be right on that account. Though with such a large litter this time, I am gonna hafta rest up now so I can get them all trained. Usually Queenie only gives us in the neighborhood of a dozen pups so with all the extras I will probably hire someone to give me a hand when they are weaned in a few weeks.”

Emmett went a little tense at that, then shook himself out of it. Brian caught it but didn’t say anything and went back to listening to the women.

Jane was asking about Mabel and Lulah let out a hearty laugh. “Naw, she is just plain old Neapolitan Mastiff. She is past her prime so I don’t breed her anymore. She’s been through it all before though, so she wet nurses for Queenie and helps me run herd on the pups. I use all three of them to train so the dogs I turn out have the best skills I can give them.”

Jane had a moment of connection as she put two and two together, “That thing in Alaska?” she turned to Marc for confirmation.

“The stranded skier thing?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, it was all over the news for a week while they searched, they showed video of the dog teams.”

Lulah shone with pride, nodding her head. “Every one of them was one of mine.”

Brian thought back, remembering the furor over the entire thing. It would have made the news anyway, but one of the lost skiers had been the son of a wealthy and influential foreign diplomat. The resulting media circus had reported on it almost hourly until they were found. He found himself reevaluating what he thought of Lulah specifically and Emmett in general. Coming to the conclusion that he didn’t know near what he thought he did he resolved to at least try to not be too harsh on them.

When he turned his attention back to his bowl, he found it halfway full. _Again_. Not knowing who the culprit was this time, he didn’t bother to frown. Besides, he thought, it _was_ really good stew, and maybe he was still just a _little_ bit hungry. After winning the internal argument over another piece of bread, he tuned everything out and finished his stew, carefully placing his hand over the top of the bowl so it couldn’t magically refill again, he carried it to the kitchen sink and rinsed it out. 

Lulah came in behind him as he set it down and showed him the pantry. It was easily the size of the kitchen itself, and had shelves lining every wall. She indicated where she kept the supplies for the dogs and without saying anything left him to figure out how to make the formula to feed the puppies.

* * *

  


Gus hurried through his dinner without tasting anything sneaking peeks at the wall clock the entire time. When he thought it was the earliest polite time to excuse himself he raced back to his friend’s room and donned his headphones, plugging them into the walkie.

At first all he heard was movement that he recognized as his mothers setting the table and serving up food. He didn’t have long to wait before Mommy started a conversation.

“You’ll never guess who called me today.”

Mama made a sound like she was still chewing.

“Mr. Scheuss from the Kloviak Gallery in Boston. He heard that I was looking and wanted to talk to me about an acquisitions position he has available. 

“Mhmm, doesn’t acquisitions mean you would have to travel frequently?” Mama asked with a kind of disapproving tone.

“Yeess, but when I mentioned to him that we still had small children at home and that you were a lawyer and work long hours, he implied that the money would be worth the effort and be enough to hire someone if we needed to, I mean, not that I think we would, but you know, you did say you wanted to be independent of Brian’s money.”

Mama said, “I don’t know Linds. I haven’t even put out any feelers yet, what with my work load right now. And how did he find out you were looking anyway?”

Mommy cleared her throat, “Well I called Sydney after you and I talked the other day and he agreed to help me find something.”

Mama sounded like she was changing a nasty diaper when she said, “That was fast. No offense, Honey, but why would a renowned Gallery like The Kloviak hire someone that has been out of the game so to speak, for two years, and before that worked in poor provincial Pittsburgh?” 

Mommy took a while before she answered. In fact, she was silent for so long that he wasn’t even sure that she would.

“Linds?” Mama said suspiciously.

“Apparently, when Sydney talked about me to Mr. Scheuss he mentioned how well the shows I put together were received and talked up my connection with several of the artists.”

Gus could imagine the squint eyed look Mama was giving Mommy at that moment just by the tone of her voice when she spat, “Uh Huh.”

Mommy forged ahead. Chipper, like how she was when she was trying to get him excited about doing something he hated. “When I said I wasn’t sure, since it really wasn’t the position I was looking for, and that I would have to talk to you to see if you had any contacts in the area for a job, he asked me what kind of law you practiced.”

“Is that so?” Mama said, sarcastically.

Gus could hear the glass on glass noise that indicated one of them was refilling their wine.

“MmHmm. He told me that if I was inclined to accept the position, he would contact his brother-in-law’s sister and see if her firm was interested in hiring for their family law division. He seemed to think she would be amenable.”

“They have a division for family law? They would have to be a pretty big firm for that. Did he happen to mention the name of the firm?”

In a way that sounded falsely disinterested, Gus heard Mommy say, “Uh, I wrote it down, but I think it was Sloan, Davis, and something or other.”

He assumed it was Mama’s fork clattering to her plate since her raised voice said “Sloan, Davis, and Lyke? The fifth biggest firm on the East Coast?”

He could tell she was surprised and impressed.

“Yeah, I think that was it.” Mommy said smugly.

“Of course I never heard of them but if you want, I took down the information if you want to fax them your dossier.” 

Mama launched into stories about some of the cases the law firm was famous for and after a few minutes Gus got bored with listening. Turning off the walkie he joined his friend at the game console, added his player to the mix, and let his brain work out on its own what the ramifications of his moms’ conversation would mean for him.

  


* * *

The determined detective duo made their way through the antiseptic halls of the morgue to the room with the big drawers. Sam flashed her badge at the attendant as Bobby read the case number from the file. After the attendant selected a drawer and pulled out the requisite body he retrieved a copy of the accompanying paperwork, handed it over and made himself scarce. Pulling back the sheet Bobby examined the corpse.

“You can barely see the tat on his chest, but it looks like our guy.”

Sam nodded, scanning the documentation. “Have the labs put a rush on the forensics, then make sure you lean on them until they come through. We need everything we can get off this guy.”

Bobby went to the computer console to submit the requests as Sam mumbled to herself. “How the hell does someone under police surveillance manage to get himself tortured and killed?”

When Bobby returned and covered the body back up, they turned together for the door. Both remained silent until they had made it back to the car and Sam turned the key. As if by some weird mental link, they looked at each other and said at the same time, “He was the only lead we had.”

* * *

  


  


“Motherfucker!” Cynthia heard Everett swear loud enough for her to hear it through her hotel suite’s bedroom door.

Normally she wouldn’t have cared less, except it had been laced with something other than anger or frustration. Fearing the worst, she flung open the door, not caring that she had been dressing for bed and was only in her skivvies.

“Brian?” she demanded, all thoughts of her previous animosity towards Everett forgotten in wake of her concern for her friend.

When Everett turned to reply, he took in her appearance and went stone cold. She could see the lines of stress around his eyes and his fingers flexing on his phone.

She made it halfway across the room as she repeated, “Goddamn it Everett, is it Brian?!”

He shook his head in the negative, not trusting his dry mouth to speech as his eyes drank in the sight of her barely clothed body. When she visibly sagged with relief, his brain finally registered that she had called him by his first name. All the frustration of trying to get her to talk to him, the stress of running a ruse in a distant state, and constant worry that they were making no headway in trying to figure out who was after Brian left him feeling woefully inadequate. 

Cynthia could feel her hands trembling. An indication of just how much pressure she had been under trying to hold it all together. She glanced again at Everett, hoping his trained perceptiveness hadn’t picked up on it, only to find him staring at her. She stood, fixated, and watched as the stress slipped from his features and made way for the primal surge of sexual energy as it enveloped is entire being. When he took a determined step in her direction she held her ground. A corresponding flare of awareness firing brightly in her center.

Everett knew the second she wasn’t going to put up a fight. He crossed the rest of the room without even realizing he did it and never even paused as his mouth latched onto hers and she slid her arms around his neck, using them to pull herself up and wrap her bare legs around his waist. He simply kept going.

He kept going until he had carried her all the way to her bed and felt her legs release him to kneel in front of him on its surface. Lips still crushed together she fought his clothes until he was gloriously naked. She was breathing fast, excitement and anticipation burgeoning over inside her as he grabbed an ass cheek in each hand and yanked her to him to grind his erection into her satin clad pelvis. She used her weight to pull him down on top of her as she lay back on the bed.

He growled, a rumbling in his chest, as the motion brought him into direct contact with her breasts. He felt her nipples go hard at the sensation and she thrust her tongue into his mouth with abandon. She dug her nails lightly into his biceps, urging him to hurry when he left the wetness of her lips to swipe his hot tongue over a nipple and draw it into his mouth with hungry force. Cynthia sucked in a breath at the pleasurable pain of it, hooking her heels just under his ass to pull his hips even closer and force his hard cock to jut into her clit. Everett nipped at her skin then, silently asking her direction, and she responded by grabbing his head and using her teeth on his earlobe while simultaneously exhaling, “Mmoorrre…” 

Everett felt his dick get even harder as it leaked and combined with her own fluids to soak her underwear. Sitting back on his haunches he took a moment and tried to employ his useless brain to ask if she had condoms. He almost laughed when she slid from her undergarment like an eel and fished in the small tote on the side table then tossed a fistful of latex in his direction. The look she sent him as she touched herself said she wanted it fast and furious. Given the amount of stress they had both been subjected to; he was inclined to agree. 

Tired of waiting for him to do what his body wanted him to do, Cynthia grabbed the nearest foil packet and put the condom on him herself. That seemed to jar him back into the present since he used one meaty arm to haul her to him and impale her in one move. Cynthia’s body accepted his eagerly, her walls clenching around him in anticipation. With his face buried in her neck, nipping and sucking, drawing mindless sounds of approval from her lips, Everett rocked his hips away from hers then drove back in to the hilt with enough force to grind his pubic bone into her clit. He grunted when she scraped her nails over his chest then grabbed onto his forearms and arched her body back like a bow. He repeated the rocking motion, slamming his cock back into her with greater and greater force as she writhed in pleasure. Forcing her flat on her back he pulled her feet to his shoulders and her ass onto his thighs causing the rim of his cock head to drag over her g-spot on both the in and out slide of his thrusts sending electric-like sparks to spread over her skin. He could hear her make incoherent sounds of delight and grasped the back of her neck to get her to open her eyes.

Bracing her so she could see, he demanded, “Look.” Cynthia’s eyes clouded with heightened arousal as she watched his hard length disappear into her depths only to reappear a couple of seconds later dripping wetness and then disappear again.

Watching him fuck her, combined with the forced position and the dexterity with which he continued to hit the spot that drove her wild on every snap of his hips had her orgasm screaming through her body like lightning and her pussy convulsing and weeping and grasping at his dick. When Everett saw her pupils blow wide and glazed he let go of her neck and allowed her head to fall back to the bed, never once giving her respite from his relentless thrusting.

When he stretched out on top of her she gladly wrapped her arms and legs around him and met him thrust for thrust as she panted, “Harder. Fuck me harder!”

Everett didn’t need to be told twice. Tossing her legs up so her knees were nearly in her armpits and bracing them with his torso he reached around her body and wrapped his fingers over the edge of the headboard. Sweat ran on both of their bodies as he cocked one of his legs to achieve more force and proceeded to fuck her to four more orgasms before finally surrendering to his own.

  


* * *

Jane thanked Emmett for dinner as she helped him clear the table and load the dishwasher while Lara and Marc made quick work of stowing the leftovers and Lulah went back outside. It was only evening, but being winter, the sun had disappeared and it was fully dark outside. Jane was drying the bread platter when Emmett turned off the sink and wiped his hands on his red apron.

“Whatever it was you said or did that had him laughing, keep it up. I’ve known him for ten years and have never heard him laugh like that.” Emmett was leaning on the counter, hands in his pockets, and all traces of the lighthearted queen were stowed away as he contemplated her with all possible seriousness. “I want him to get help. He needs it. He has terrible self-destructive behavior when he is threatened.” 

Jane moved so she could look up into Emmett’s eyes while he spoke. “Don’t break his trust. He will never forgive you, and when I say never, I mean it. He will use it as an excuse to give up on your therapy. When I suggested we come here, I committed one hundred percent to his recovery, so I guess I’m saying…if you need a fall guy, just ask me.”

Jane rubbed Emmett’s upper arm and gave him a comforting grin. The fact that Emmett was willing to sacrifice his friendship if it was in Brian’s best interests spoke volumes about how much Emmett really cared about him. Standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, Jane hung her dish towel and went up the steps to check on Brian and the pups. 

What she found was Bear, stuck halfway in and halfway out of the doorway as Brian tried to shove his mass back out into the hallway and simultaneously close his door. When she hit the landing and started chuckling, Brian gave her a dirty look and shoved harder at the dog with his knees.

“Give over Brian, he just wants to check the puppies.” Jane said as she opened her own door. 

“I don’t want all that fucking hair in here. Next thing you know it’ll be stuck in places I didn’t even know I had.”

He was most assuredly irritated and became more so when Jane laughed harder. “I’m sure you have had plenty of other things in those places so it shouldn’t be that big of a problem.” She said, causing the dirty look to become a promise of bodily harm should she continue. Unfazed by him or his attitude she said, “If you want some help, all you have to do is ask.” 

Brian didn’t even acknowledge she had spoken as he looked down at the dog and redoubled his efforts. A few minutes went by. He was sweaty, no discernible progress had been made and he felt like a fool trying to move a mountain by sheer will alone. _Fuck!_ He thought, _the dog outweighs me by at least fifty pounds!_

Jane observed him work off his snit, damp hair sticking to his brow and temples as Bear simply stood there silent and unmoving in his parental determination. Assuming one of them would give in eventually, Jane turned into her room. She didn’t make it two steps before Brian’s said, “For fuck’s sake! Can you help me out over here or not?”

She turned back around but made no move to help. She stuck her hands in her back pockets and waited, leaving her face expressionless. 

“Please.” He was only a little bit sarcastic when he said it and since she assumed he was probably tired and more than a little cranky after his attempt at physically removing the dog, she cut him some slack.

She loudly clapped her hands twice, saying the dog’s name firmly to get his attention. He didn’t move his body, but he turned his head and watched her with a raised eyebrow and cocked ears. “Sit.” She told him and he plunked his butt right there on the threshold. His tail swished once as he waited for a new command. Jane said he was a good boy and pet his head briefly before telling him to “Stay” and holding her hand in a stop position in front of his face. The resulting wag was happy and his ears relaxed.

Pushing the door open all the way and using the same hand in Brian’s chest to ease him backwards, Jane stepped into his room. Brian eyed the dog, waiting to jump in if he trespassed. Jane just ignored the alpha male posturing and went straight to the bed and the basket sitting on the top of the duvet. Brian stood up straighter, more confident that Bear would stay put, but held his hand in the stop position for a few seconds for good measure. Bear simply looked at him, then Jane, wagged his tail and returned his eyes to Brian making it very clear who he thought was really in charge.

Brian’s lip curled in a silent snarl as he moved to the bed where Jane had already set out the puppies and had a bottle in each mouth when he sat down. “I suppose this is where you tell me that in addition to your flock of children, you have a herd of dogs you train too.”

Jane knew he was fishing but it was a good opening to start building trust between them. “Not professionally but we have had a few over the years. Like anything else, the more you practice, the easier it becomes.” She indicated the linen closet in the hall with her head, “Grab the oldest towel, sheet and blanket in there and bring them back.”

He had to step over Bear, since the dog wasn’t inclined to move or make anything easy for him, but after rifling the closet, he came back with what she’d asked for. Toeing off her shoes, she brought her legs onto the bed and instructed Brian to fold the towel in half and transfer the puppies onto it in case they peed, then told him to wrap himself in the threadbare sheet.

“My bare chest bothering you, Lady Jane?” he snarked. 

“Nooo,” she drawled, “you need to mark it with your scent, you should rub it in your underarms and your hair, get as much of your sweat on it as you can.” Then she pushed him a little further, “In fact, you should probably go into the bathroom and rub it over your groin as well.”

Brian thought she was pulling his leg, “Yeah, right.” 

She just shrugged and went about feeding the puppies.

Not sure what to do, Brian looked around for some kind of help in figuring it out. His eyes settled on Bear again as he sat quietly in the doorway. As if he understood, he swiveled his big head in a “get to it” manner and Brian balled the sheet in his fist as he stalked to the bathroom, muttering obscenities about the indignity of it all, and closing the door none too gently.

“Good boy.” Jane mumbled and let her lips slip into a grin.

Bear huffed his agreement. She didn’t give him any time to recover when he returned though, “Are you using all of the drawers in here, or do you have an empty one?” 

“Huh?”

“I didn’t think it was a hard question, Brian. Pull out one of your empty drawers and set it on the end of the bed.” 

When he complied, she instructed him to fold the blanket into it and rumple the sheet over the top. She then picked up the puppies, towel and all and placed them into the drawer. Bear watched it all with keen interest, then seeing that his offspring were safe and sleeping he ambled down the steps, Brian automatically relaxing with his departure. 

“Guess you didn’t have a dog growing up, huh?” she said, as she saw him gently pet each of the puppies before sitting on the bed facing her.

“Didn’t have any pets.” He said, focusing on the velvety fur under his fingers. 

“Not even a goldfish you won at the fair?”

“We never had money for that stuff.” He said, shaking his head. “Besides, my parents were often too drunk or disinterested for bonding over shit like that, so no pets. Fuck, they barely managed to parent children, a pet would have been more work and they were too selfish for that.”

“What were you doing just before your panic attack this morning?” 

Just like that, his face became impassive as the mask slipped into place. He knew she would eventually want to talk about it, but he wasn’t ready. 

“I will make it as painless as I possibly can, Brian, but you do have to answer. That was the agreement.” She said it firmly, but compassionately, letting him know she wouldn’t push him more than he could handle. 

_I’m being pathetic. Trying to hide when I knew I would have to talk to her. Fuck. If I don’t, what is the point of her being here?_

“I was checking my emails.” His voice was flat.

“Bad news?”

“No.”

“Was it work or something else?”

“A little of work and a couple from friends.” The way he slightly stressed the word friends, piqued Jane’s interest.

“Did you have a falling out?”

Brian leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed his cigarettes, lighter and ashtray then lay back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. Placing the ashtray on his abdomen, he handed Jane a cigarette and the lighter first.

 _I hit a nerve_ , Jane thought. _He’s stalling_.

Brian lit his cigarette. He was a third of the way through it when he realized she wasn’t going to say anything else until he answered her question. Sneaking a glance at her from the corner of his eye, he saw her pant leg was pulled up and she was massaging her calf muscle and ankle, completely ignoring him. She reached over to tap the ash off her cigarette into the dish without looking up. Putting it back between her lips, she worked her leg with both hands, kneading hard enough for her knuckles to turn white when she squeezed. Her face was pinched and a faint line of perspiration broke out above her lip.

Putting out his cigarette he touched her hand to get her to look at him. Crooking the fingers, he gestured for her to give him her leg. She didn’t hesitate to slide her butt closer to him as he braced the flat of her foot on his diaphragm, her knee bent, with her other leg laid over the tops of his thighs. She tapped out her cigarette and lay back, perpendicular to him. When he grasped the dent at the back of her knee and squeezed, she let out a sigh of relief. Working that spot for a few minutes then moving to the wide, top part of her calf, Brian could feel just how tight the muscle was. It was rock hard under his hand and it was some time before it relaxed enough for him to move lower. Gradually, it softened completely and her breathing eased.

Given their positions, he could only see the side of her face when he turned his head towards her. He could tell her eyes were closed but he knew her well enough to know that he wasn’t off the hook. So, keeping up with his ministrations, he gave in. “Before I was ignominiously pitched in the drink, I had asked Lindsay if she would have my baby.”

“Mmm?’

“She’s Gus’ mom, so I thought, what the hell. I didn’t talk to Melanie about it though. Fuck, I should have. Hindsight and all that. Maybe Lindsay wouldn’t have blown it out of proportion like she did.”

“What happened?”

“She came to the hospital, after she was told to stay away. Made a scene.”

Jane thought he sounded like he should have expected it. “Normal behavior for her, I take it?”

“You could say that.” He moved his hand to her ankle and pressed his fingers around the joint, massaging the tendons. “She’s always had a thing for me, but I thought she had grown past it or I never would have asked her.” He sounded disappointed.

“Ah” Jane said in understanding.

“What’s that mean?” Brian’s head turned towards her and she shifted her upper body a bit so she could look at him.

“She would see that as affirmation of her role in your life and confirm for her, rightly or not, that you have deeper feelings for her.”

“There are no deeper feelings.” Brian rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the ceiling while he worked her foot.

She snorted. “You slept with her.”

Brian raised his head this time to pierce her with a questioning stare. “What the hell makes you say that?”

“Calm down!” she said. 

When he dropped his head back to the bed, she explained. “It was before Gus and most likely before either of you were in a serious relationship. My guess is it happened at least twice. That would make her think it was good enough for you, that you came back for more.” 

Brian’s neck and face flushed but he didn’t interrupt her.

“Uh Huh, so after you turned down her suggestion of becoming involved with her, she probably cut you off in the friendship arena for a while too, but not long enough for you to get over her hurt feelings. She comes to you, wanting to stay friends and you agree because when it comes down to it, you really do care about her. You even love her, though not the way she wants. How am I doing so far?”

Brian waved his hand for her to continue then placed his palm on top of her knee and began the process all over again on her shin. Jane braced herself up on her elbows as she went on. “She ran through a series of fuck buddies, coming to you to cry on your shoulder when they didn’t work out. Maybe hoping to make you jealous. Bet she got into a new, serious relationship pretty quickly when that didn’t work the way she wanted it to.”

Brian casually flung a finger in her direction, “She and Melanie love each other. They have been together for like, twelve years or something.”

 _He cares enough about her to defend her choices. He’s loyal._ She thought to herself.

Jane nodded, “I have no doubt that she does. Or at least that she believes she does. Anyway, life settles down and she goes about showing you at every possible turn, just how happy and perfect her life is now. The whole “I’m the best homemaker there is, see what you’re missing” routine, or some such drivel. But you’re not buying into it because, let’s face it, you don’t give a fuck. In point of fact you might even be a little relieved that she has someone else to focus on for a while so you can do what you do best. You concentrate on your life, needs, and desires. I bet that pissed her off.” 

Again Brian said, “You could say that.”

Finished with the massage, he let his palm coast up and down her calf in long slow strokes, not willing to acknowledge that it was a comfort. Jane kept talking, sure she was on the right track. 

“I bet you were going to move pretty far away when she asked you for the baby. Wait, strike that, she would have called you the “sperm donor”, keep it clinical. Keep you from having any thoughts or feelings about it one way or another. That is…until she was pregnant.”

Brian’s hand paused in its course up the back of her calf while he processed her statement. She was dead right, but that didn’t keep it from hurting all over again. He took a steadying breath before nodding once and began rolling each of her toes between his fingers.

“Then it was all, you can’t move, you have a son now. Blah, blah, blah. So you stayed. And she got a way to keep you in her life for however long she wanted you there.” Jane’s head bobbed, she could see the situation clearly. “Because she knew you loved her, and sperm donor or not, you would love your son. You’re just not capable of anything else.”

“I’m capable of plenty. Most of it not very nice.” Brian said, a hard edge in his tone. 

“I believe that. But I have one more question about her, then we will let it go.” Jane waited for his assent then asked, “Exactly how much money have you paid for your son’s “support” over the years?”

When Brian’s face went dark she knew he wouldn’t answer the question, which in effect, was answer enough in itself.

“That’s what I thought. And before you go thinking that I think she played you for a fool, just let me say that I don’t think it could be any further from the truth. I think you did everything, all of it, every last play, exactly the way you did because you knew from the get go what was happening. You are not a fool. Quite the opposite I suspect.”

Brian had to give her points for her extremely accurate description of the situation, but he most certainly wasn’t going to tell her. He moved her foot to the bed saying, “Nightstand drawer. Silver dish.” He needed something stronger if she was going to continue this mostly one-sided conversation. He wasn’t contributing much, but her insights left him just as raw as if he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

She leaned across the bed, retrieving the dish, and upon opening it, checked her watch. “Be right back. If we’re really gonna get into this stuff, I need supplies.” She made an ungainly departure from the bed and he could hear her scamper, _yes scamper_ , down the steps. 

He took the opportunity while she was gone to take a piss and change into sweat-shorts. He was laying the wrong way in the bed again, the same as before she left, wondering what was taking her so long. Leaning up to check the pups in the drawer at the foot of the bed he was glad that they were still curled together sleeping. He had just begun to wonder if they would stay that way all night when Jane returned with a cardboard box. She seemed a little winded, but when he sat up to see the contents, he really wasn’t surprised.

She set the can of powdered puppy formula and a new gallon of distilled water on the nearest nightstand with clean bottles and nipples. She wedged a big canning pot, which given the sound it made was filled with ice, between two of his pillows at the top of the bed and jammed six glass bottles of beer into it before opening two more and handing one off to him. Scooching the box to the far side, she resumed her previous spot and sat with her bottle tucked into her crossed legs while she rolled a very fat joint.

Brian watched her hands. If he were truthful with himself, he would say they were beautiful. For as small as they were, they seemed very capable. Her nails were not short, nor were they salon long either. Just enough to be feminine but not really noticeable since they were painted a very pale pink that he suspected matched the nailbed. When she brought the joint to her lips to lick the paper he could see the small bone that jutted out of her delicate wrists. Using her thumbs to tuck, then her index fingers to seal, he noted the faint white line of a scar on the back of one of her knuckles.

“How’d you get that?” _Shit, why did I ask that? Why do I care_?

“Get what?” Jane asked as she fired up.

 _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ “That scar on the back of your middle finger.”

Jane passed him the joint as she exhaled and thought, _he needs some distance from our conversation_.

“I was cutting down a dead tree at my Grandmother’s and I clipped it with a hacksaw. Bled like a sonofabitch, but it wasn’t too serious.” She tugged off her button down shirt and tossed it carelessly on the floor. She took another drag when he passed back and pointed to a spot on the inside of her upper left arm. Brian saw a scar almost the width of his finger and about three inches long. “Now this one,” she said, “this one hurt like a motherfucker and took the skin and part of the muscle with it. One of my cases lived in a very old farm house and gave me a shove down the steps. I caught myself on the bannister, but an exposed nail caught me first.”

“One of your cases? They’re dangerous?” Brian wasn’t sure what he thought about that.

“Mmm, some are. I don’t handle those anymore. Too many near misses.” Her tone let him know that she was done with that subject and her tense shoulders reinforced it.

Feeling a little bad for bringing up a difficult topic for her he gave her the rest of the joint and drank his beer in silence.

“So she made a scene and I can only assume you smacked her down over it.” When Brian blanched she offered, “Metaphorically speaking. I don’t think you would really physically hurt someone.”

“Yep. But it needed to be done.”

Jane thought he was just a tad too cavalier about it and that he was hiding what he really felt. “So what…her email was mean towards you? Angry?”

“No. She still wants to be friends.” He said, in a sickly sweet imitation of Lindsay. 

Jane could barely hear the hurt in his voice but it was there so she decided to let it go for now. “Your email from work? Any big news in the world of advertising and public relations?” 

Brian grinned, “Just a note from Cynthia. She called Everett by his last name so I know she is pissed at him for some reason.”

Jane raised her eyebrows for him to elaborate.

“She is in control of the company and he is Head of Security. They should just fuck and be done with it. They would both be happier that way. She resists because she knows she could fall hard and she would never be the same.” Brian absently pulled her neglected leg into position and moved her pant leg up above her knee while staring at the ceiling again.

Sensing that he needed the contact to ground himself she let him massage that leg too. It felt good, so who was she to argue?

“Sounds like you speak from experience.” She said as she stuck her hand in the box and grabbed the first thing she touched. It turned out to be a bag of b-b-q chips. She just shrugged and rolled with it, opening the bag and stuffing a handful in her mouth.

“We are very much alike in that aspect.”

When he didn’t offer anything else she said, “I know the feeling.” 

Brian believed her.

Jane ate a few more chips while Brian half-heartedly complained about crumbs in his bed. When both bottles were empty, Jane sat up, leaving “Brian’s leg” where it was and rolled a new joint. The position placed her knee in the vicinity of her right ear, but Brian noted she didn’t seem uncomfortable so he kept rubbing her leg. This time, she handed off to him and rolled another for herself before laying back again.

“Do you think they will work it out?” She asked.

“I would like to think so.”

Jane accepted that he avoided answering definitively and that it most likely struck too close to home for him to really handle right now. “When did you know you were gay?”

Brian didn’t know where she was going with that question so he hesitated.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna try to change you or anything, I’m just genuinely curious.”

Brian took her statement at face value and since it was a lighter topic, decided to humor her. “I have been attracted to men since I was a small child. Grade school I guess. I don’t really remember. How long have you been straight?” He teased.

“Who says I am?” she shot back, smiling at his useless barb.

With his joint between his teeth, Brian relinquished her leg in favor of her arm and tugged until she was lying parallel to him and he could see her eyes. For the life of him, he couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or telling him the truth. She rolled onto her side, bracing her head on her bent arm and let him read what he could from her face. When his brows lowered and a frown marred his lips she explained. “I am not gay.” 

When his face lit with an “I thought so”, she put up her hand to stop his words. She took another drag, then tapped off the ash, and said, “I am not straight or bisexual either. I think there are some things in this universe that cannot and should not be labeled because nothing does them justice. Love is love, and it is the most powerful force humans are capable of. None of us is so perfect that we can afford to squander it in whatever forms it comes. Personally I lean in the male direction for love and sexual gratification, but I also admit to being sexually attracted to and in love with another woman. I think sex is sex and love is love, and if both parties are agreeable, then a label really doesn’t matter, because a label limits humans in their natural desires, makes something joyful into something dirty. If Toni on Monday and Tony on Tuesday makes you your happiest you, then I say go for it, puritanical bullshit be damned.”

Jane watched him keenly to see what he thought about her revelation and for a few minutes she could read nothing. Slowly his eyes changed, just the same as hers were wont to do, as his emotions came into play.

 _Here he is. Finally!_

His irises moved from a somewhat generic hazel, to a deeper, richer, green. The golden flecks seemed brighter somehow and when she allowed her gaze to back up and take in his whole face, she saw the beginnings of respect.

It didn’t however, prepare her for his next question. “How does your husband handle that?” 

Jane deflected by asking one of her own. “What makes you think I’m married?” she said, as she rolled onto her back.

“You may not wear a ring, Lady Jane, but you have wife written all over you. Mother too, for sure, but you reek wife. I couldn’t figure it out before, but now that I have, I’m sure.” 

“What gave me away?”

Brian dropped his butt into the ashtray and moved it out of the way so he could roll onto his side. “You have an easy manner with men, without being predatory or competitive. Same goes for women. You are extremely comfortable in your own skin, but seem to know when someone else is uncomfortable and move to rectify it without making a fuss over it. You most definitely know how to work a room and I don’t think that comes from PTA meetings. I think your husband is someone of great influence that was smart enough to know he didn’t want just a trophy wife. You slide into the role of teammate easily. I would guess you have been together for a long time.”

She cleared her throat and ditched her butt into the ashtray. Sticking her hand into the box she came back with a king size bag of skittles and munched a few before answering. “We got married at seventeen. We had already been together for three years. We will be married twenty years next summer.”

Brian realized Jane was much older than he had originally thought. He would not have put her much past her mid to late twenties and she was in fact closer to his own thirty-seven. “Shit! How the hell do you have seven kids and still look that good?” 

Jane smiled, “Smoke and mirrors my good man, smoke and mirrors.”

“No, really, seven kids and you’re such a tiny little thing. Most women I know have just one and blow up like a house.” Brian abhorred it when women would say it was baby weight and the kid was like five years old or something. If you wanted to stay that way, he figured you should just own it and not blame it on a pregnancy. 

“Well, believe me when I tell you, I look much better in my clothes than out of them. My once beautiful ass droops and I have stretch marks imitating a road map from my ribs to my hips. And don’t even get me get me started on my tits. They fucking look like pantyhose with sand in the bottom.”

For some reason, the weed or the way she said it, conjured an image in Brian’s head that had him laughing until tears ran out. Jane turned to him, sticking an indignant finger in his chest telling him, “That is not to be repeated, understand? I have a reputation to uphold.” Brian held his hand up in submission, still chuckling. “Fine, fine, your secret is safe with me.” 

“Besides, I only had three. We acquired the rest.”

“How the fuck, do you _acquire_ children?” Brian definitely wanted to hear this story. He sat up, leaned over her to grab a couple more beers, she scowled at him when the icy water dripped onto her abdomen, and he crossed his legs, giving her his undivided attention.

Jane mimicked his position, deciding that telling him a story from her personal life would go a long way in building trust. “Two years into our marriage we found out I was pregnant. It wasn’t planned. In fact, we were pretty sure neither of us wanted kids. We both were the oldest of very large families, so we figured if we had the insane notion of ever wanting a kid, we would borrow one, have some fun, then send it home to its parents. There was never a shortage of parents wanting a break in either of our families.” She shook her head and chugged some beer. “Anyway, there I was six months pregnant, husband deployed for two and a half more years when my mother-in-law calls in a panic. My sixteen-year-old sister-in-law had just given birth to triplets and walked out of the hospital. No word to anyone. Just a note saying she couldn’t do it. The state wants to take the babies, my in-laws can’t take them in, they already had six teenagers and two foster kids. She doesn’t want to lose her grandbabies and all that, so I said I would call her back. I wracked my brain all night trying to come up with some other solution. But both our families would be considered poor, and most of them I wouldn’t trust with a plant let alone three kids. I remember thinking; _How do you tell the woman that adopted your husband that you won’t take in her grandkids because it’s not convenient_?”

Brian said, “That’s easy, _YOU_ wouldn’t.”

Jane’s face screwed up, “Yeah. So, long story short, I applied for bigger housing on base, got an attorney and made it legal. My husband got to come home for the birth of our daughter and he stayed for about a month before he had to go back. I don’t even remember most of the first year. By the time I could stop smelling formula everywhere I went my husband came home on leave, leading to baby number five. Of course he was gone again, but made it back for the birth. Eight months later my brother and his pregnant wife were in a car accident. Their baby was the only survivor. I couldn’t do less for my parents than I had done for my husband’s so…baby makes six and I was back in the multiple baby diaper pool. Husband’s three-year deployment is up, so he comes home and in short order I am pregnant with number seven. And before you say anything about birth control, we tried everything short of abstinence. Apparently we are the reason nothing is 100% effective. We are the exception that negates the rules.”

Brian didn’t know what to say. He was saved from conjuring something when she said “After that I wouldn’t even let him breathe the same air as me without getting a vasectomy.”

Brian flinched in sympathy with a man he didn’t even know. Jane caught it and laughed, “Yeah, that’s pretty much how he took it too. But seven kids in a little less than four years and I wasn’t letting him anywhere near me. When I went into labor and he had to take care of the kids the few days I was in the hospital, it really opened his eyes. He made the appointment for the day I came home.” They both shared an easy laugh as they finished their beer. 

When the puppies woke, they fed them in silence and once they were sleeping again Brian asked, “Didn’t he ever question? Why you did it. What you do now.”

Jane knew he wasn’t just referring to adopting kids, but also his earlier question about her sexual proclivities. She didn’t want to really get into that story, but she had made an agreement, if he asked, she would answer. If she wanted him to do the same she had to at least make an attempt to explain.

“It wasn’t until the kids were all in school that I realized I was at loose ends. Given what my husband and I had been through when he came home, he suggested that I see if I could help a friend of his going through the same thing. I struggled with it for a while, not sure how I could really help someone I didn’t know and a few weeks into it I hit a wall. I was telling him how I felt inadequate, floundering, and maybe it wouldn’t work the way it had for him. He sits me on his lap and says, ‘Jane, you have an amazing capacity to love everyone. You know what they need and you become that. All the head-shrinkers in the world couldn’t put me back together, but _you_ did. Just do what you do best and be yourself. It will work out in the end.’ When I told him what I felt would be best in that particular case, he just shrugged and said, ‘Do it.’ 

I didn’t think he understood and when I spelled it out for him he smiled and said, ‘Babe, I don’t have anything to be jealous of. You come home to me, to us, to our children. Whatever it takes, there are plenty of people that you could help and I won’t stand in the way of that. Your love and support made me whole again and I would be a right selfish bastard if I kept you to myself. Go. Do what you gotta do. I will hold down the fort.’ And that was that. It was the only conversation we ever had about it and we haven’t looked back. It was the sweetest, most understanding thing he had ever said to me.” Her voice was deeper, husky with remembered emotion.

Jane laid back, rolled her eyes and admitted, “It was also the longest thing he ever said to me. He tends to be the strong, silent type.”

“Good man.” Brian said, admiration clear in his tone. 

“The best. He never made me feel self-conscious about it. If it happens, it happens and if it doesn’t it doesn’t. I just become what is needed at the time and _he gets it_.”

Brian contemplated her in silence for quite a while as she closed her eyes and drifted in her own thoughts.

When she sniffed and a tear ran from the corner of her eye into the hair at her temple he was completely confused. She didn’t sob, or get smushy, she just lay there and let them run. He didn’t think he had said anything to offend her and he was pretty sure her tale hadn’t made her sad so the tears left him wondering first what caused them, and not knowing that, how the hell he was supposed to fix it.

“Jane?”

She wiped the tears away, keeping her eyes closed. “Just my feelings of exulansis slipping away. Thanks for that.”

Brian placed his hand on her knee, feeling some emotion he was unfamiliar with wash over him. A passage from a book read long ago, the words forgotten but their impact still vividly remembered. It teased his brain, with its meaning, a startled awakening in the middle of the night with the answer just out of reach until it slid, unbidden and welcomed into his mental grasp as she slipped into sleep. 

“ _La gaudiere_ ,” it whispered. 

The definition stomping its way into his thoughts, repeating itself over and over with its accuracy. “ _The glint of goodness inside a person, which you can only find by sloshing them back and forth in your mind until everything dark and gray and common falls away, leaving behind a constellation at the bottom of the pan- a rare element trapped in exposed bedrock, washed there by a storm from somewhere upstream_.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you are going to love me and some of you are going to hate me. All I ask is that you trust me through this process.  
> Please be kind.

Chapter 17

 

 

I’m not young enough to know everything.

J.M. Barrie

 

 

 _I can’t breathe._  
_She’s coming for me._  
_I saw her there, just before everything went black._  
_The golden haired angel floated, just out of reach_.

Brian awoke, panting, blinking his eyes, thinking he was still underwater because he couldn’t see anything in the pitch blackness. He flung out his hand, hoping to grab onto something, anything, to pull himself from the remnants of the dream, choking back the scream threatening to burst his lungs, refusing to take a breath lest it escape.

  
_Skin_.

  
His questing hand brushed skin. Turning his palm onto it, he let his fingers grasp the anchor for his recalcitrant brain.

  
“Breathe, Brian.” Jane’s whispered words came from somewhere near him in the darkness.

  
His head shook of its own volition, his mind and consciousness and body all out of sync.

  
“You have to. You can do this, Brian. We can do this.”

  
He felt dizzy.

  
“Just like before, in…out. Do it with me. In…out”

  
Her hand touched the center of his chest, startling him, forcing his lungs to expel like a popped balloon.

  
“Good. In…out.” Her hand lightly pressed as she repeated the up/down motions from earlier.

  
By his third deep breath the dizziness faded and his eyes had adjusted to the meager light of the moon coming through the window. They breathed together, Jane encouraging him all the while in her calm, sure way. Slowly, Brian realized that the skin he was clenching was her waist, just above her right hip, his thumb digging into the bone. Thinking he was hurting her, he made a concerted effort to release his fingers and pull away.

  
“No. Leave it there.” She said, “It’s called grounding. Many people find physical contact a way to stay connected in the present. Using it as a focal point to counteract the often disjointedness of an attack. It can help settled the mind and introduce order into what can be a very chaotic and scary experience.”

  
Brian heard her words but also felt the vibration of them in her flesh.

  
She explained, “Most humans do it in small ways in their everyday lives without ever realizing they do it. A caress, a favored set of clothes, a book or video we watch repeatedly, or a special food. All give a certain level of comfort.”

  
He let his thumb stroke in broad, fanlike sweeps from the jut of her hipbone to the soft fleshy part of her abdomen near her navel.

  
“People like us, those measures have been in place for so long, they don’t always bring the comfort we crave and that can bring more panic. Not being in control inside ourselves, leads to controlling things on the outside. Needing, demanding, that things be just so. Towels hung a certain way, movies stored alphabetically, rigid routines that when broken cause feelings of anger and resentment because no one else gets it that surprises cause anxiety and that in turn starts a downward spiral of depression and self-loathing because you can’t just snap out of it.”

  
Brian’s fingers curled into the back of her waist. She had touched on, what he felt, was one of his biggest issues. He didn’t have the chance to dwell on it when his middle finger brushed a puckering of skin. He lightly traced it, noting the roundish shape and the hardness of scar tissue. He didn’t think the image that came to mind could be true, so he probed her front with his thumb, and found the companion scar right where it should be.

  
_It’s a bullet wound. Someone shot her. Could have killed her_!

  
It made him angry. Furious. Disproportionate rage filled him. Images of gushing blood and feelings of helplessness vied for supremacy, sending tremors up his limbs.

  
“It’s over. A long time ago.” She said, placing her own hand over his.

  
“What happened?” the question was out before he had a chance to think whether or not it was appropriate to ask. Opening his mouth to tell her to forget it, she broke in with a resigned exhale.

  
“Someone I tried to help, but she didn’t want to be helped.”

  
Brian understood immediately. “A near miss.”

  
“Mmm.” Jane hummed, rolling onto her back, making their hands slide onto her belly above the waistband of her jeans. She splayed his fingers so he could feel her other scars. Some faint and pencil-line thin, and others not so much, that ran from under the top of her jeans to fan out and dissipate just under her ribcage. “These are the scars I choose to dwell on.” She spoke as she traced his fingers over her stretch marks. “Each one brought life, love, and purpose. A reminder, I am not in this universe as a sole entity. I have a connection to those around me and a responsibility to do my best by them. A testament that I was here and I made the world a better place by being in it.”

  
She stopped moving their hands and Brian noted that his spanned nearly the entire space between the points of her hips. Some part of his brain registered that evaluating that irrational thought would lead no where he wanted to go so he removed his hand and used it to push himself upright

.  
His groan of pain had Jane scurrying for the lamp then crouching in front of him on the floor as he breathed through the worst of it.

  
“Describe it for me.” She demanded, making him scowl at her from under the hair fallen over his eyes.

  
“I can’t help, if I don’t know what’s wrong.” She insisted.

  
“Ahh…pins…mmm…needles.” Brian squirmed a little as if he could physically remove himself from his discomfort. “Shoulder…uhhh…throbs, fingers…mmm…numb.”

  
Glancing down, Jane saw that his fingers were blue and swollen. Standing and quickly running her hands up and around all sides of his soft cast, she quickly found the culprit. The shoulder piece and the arm piece were two separate casts that overlapped each other in his underarm and on the top edge of his shoulder. The bottom part, the arm segment, had worked itself into a fold where they joined causing a bulk of casting material and effectively cutting off the blood flow to the lower arm and caused swelling around his shoulder joint.

  
“Fuck.” She mumbled as she pushed him back to a prone position. She glanced at her watch, noting the time as 4am, and opened the wide Velcro straps with brisk gentleness. Brian continued breathing carefully as the pressure was released and blood flooded back into his arm leaving him with a vague sense of euphoria. She pulled the contraption completely off and threw it on the floor while yelling Lara’s name.

Fearing further damage to the arm, she massaged his fingers, hand and wrist, doing her best not to move the rest of his arm. She ran a hand over his bicep, its feverishness giving way to coldness below the elbow.

  
“Shit!” She swore, when Brian fainted. It was worse than she had thought. “Lara!” Jane jumped from the bed to retrieve the doctor, just as she came up the steps with her medical bag followed by everyone else including Bear.

  
Jane took Brian’s blood pressure as Lara listened to his heart and lungs. Several long minutes passed as the others milled in the hallway and the puppies woke at the disturbance. Jane was back to massaging his hand and forearm, trying to help with the blood flow while Lara took his temperature then used the stethoscope to listen to the artery in his upper arm.

  
“I was here the whole time. He never said anything. We talked for several minutes, but nothing seemed amiss until he sat up.” Jane’s tone was clinical, but her distress was evident in every line of her tense body.

  
Brian opened glazed eyes that rapidly cleared to full consciousness as Lara shone a light in them and welcomed him back.

  
“Fuck you, Doc.” His words lacked the necessary heat though and she went about preparing a syringe of medication.

  
Jane’s fear was replaced by anger fueled by the avoidance of disaster. Without thinking she straddled his hips, braced hand by his head and leaned in to yell at him face to face. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were in pain! Do you have any goddamn fucking idea what could have happened to you?! You could have permanent nerve or muscle damage! You could have lost your fucking arm you stupid, selfish, insufferable…” Jane floundered for another suitable epithet before pointing a finger in his face and screeching “ _MAN_!”

  
She was about to let loose another tirade when Brian grabbed said finger, along with the rest of her hand and yelled back. “I am not stupid! I didn’t feel anything until I sat up!” He thrust her hand away. “And who the fuck are you to yell at me like some goddamn fucking fishwife on a bender?! Get off me you bossy, brain-picking, know-it-all, _WOMAN_!” he sneered.

  
Everyone watched with rapt attention when Jane’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared, Brian smirking in her face the whole time. Her jaw clenched as she bared her teeth in a snarl that had Bear backing away from the bed. The entire room held a collective breath while the combatants stared each other down for several tense moments.

  
Jane relented first, leaping from her perch, snatching up the cast, hollering “Fine!” in his general direction, and exiting the room in a huff, dragging Emmett with her down the steps. She wasn’t gone two seconds when Lara jabbed a needle in his arm none too gently. When Brian flinched and turned to ask her what the fuck, she just smiled at him.

  
“You did that on purpose.” He accused.

  
Lara didn’t bother to confirm or deny his accusation, just told him to lie still and not move his broken arm since Jane had absconded with the cast. Muttering to himself about vindictive females, he plucked first one, then the other puppy from the drawer and laid them on his chest. Lulah made a couple of bottles and handed them over before retreating to her room.

  
Neither puppy was willing to eat or even latch, and it took several minutes for him to figure out that the liquid was probably not warm enough. Glancing around for someone to heat them, he realized it was just himself and Lara. She was making notes in his chart and the other two agents had already left. Brian really didn’t want to be by himself, so after pondering it for a few seconds, he stuck the bottles in his armpit to let his body heat warm them.

  
Lara went into his bathroom, coming back with the rest of his meds and dug around in the cardboard box for a bottle of water. Handing him first one, then the other she, neither of them said anything. She spent the next twenty minutes rechecking his vitals and making notations while Brian rubbed downy fur and Bear watched from the foot of the bed. When both puppies were happily sucking away, the big dog crept around the side of the bed and gave Brian two quick swipes of his tongue to the side of his face and bounded out of sight.

* * *

 

Emmett wandered around the cellar, gathering things they might eventually need upstairs into an old fashioned wire crate, keeping his eye on Jane the entire time. When she had grabbed him at the landing he had still been in shock over her display of temper. By the time they hit the bottom of the staircase, he was not sure he was a hundred percent on board with going _anywhere_ with her since she seemed even _more_ agitated _away_ from Brian’s irritating presence.

  
His shock hadn't abated when she said “Where are the sewing supplies?”

  
When Emmett just looked confused she fisted her hand in his shirtfront demanding, “Needle, thread, fabric if you have it and six d-rings. O-rings will do if that’s all you’ve got.”

  
Emmett seemed to finally make the connection as he led her to the cellar door and flipped on the light. Once downstairs he pointed out where she would find what she needed and uncovered an ancient foot-pedaled sewing machine.

  
He thought she seemed fairly adept at the craft, as she attacked the Velcro straps with a seam ripper until they all lay in a pile at her feet. She rummaged viciously through bins of fabric, unearthing an indoor/outdoor weave used for patio furniture in a dark blue, matching it, with a fuming huff, to a spool of heavy nylon thread in a similar shade.

  
I wasn’t very long before she had used the original cast pieces for measurements and cut out her own pattern in the material. Sitting down at the machine, she placed her foot on the pedal and moved it back and forth in fiery temperament until the wheels turned smoothly and with great speed as she loaded a bobbin and worked her magic under the needle.

  
Emmett’s crate was almost full when he added a package of toilet paper to the rest. He leaned on a shelf out of her line of sight and watched her finish her work. She held it up, testing each strap and ring, going over the seams, and generally making sure she turned out a strong and functional product.

  
She re-covered the machine, put the supplies back where she found them and fumed up the steps, Emmett hastily following with the crate. Upon reaching the kitchen, she flung the new sling on the table, said “It goes on like a baby sling,” and practically ran upstairs without making eye contact with either Lara or Noah.

  
Lara picked it up, assessing it carefully while Emmett put away his “groceries”.

  
“Better try putting it on a couple of times,” she said. “so we only have to do it once with him. I don’t want him moving it any more than he has to for the next few days.”

  
Noah graciously surrendered himself as guinea pig and within just a few tries they had it figured out. Lara looked at the time on the microwave and it had been over an hour since Brian had had painkillers so she left the men drinking coffee at the table and took the sling upstairs.

 

* * *

  
Jane’s door was closed but she could hear the shower running along with music she couldn’t place.

  
Entering Brian’s room she was glad he was still where she had left him, except the puppies were back in their bed. For some reason the music was louder but not unpleasantly so. Brian was much more relaxed and it appeared that the pain had dissipated. She moved the drawer to the floor by the desk and helped him into it. What little pain had been left was swept away from his features as the new sling cradled and supported where necessary and distributed the weight of the injured arm to other, more sturdy parts, of his torso without pinching or constricting.

  
“That feels a hell of a lot better than that other torture device.” Brian said.

  
“Don’t thank me,” Lara replied, “Jane made it for you.”

  
Brian kept his mouth shut as he considered the fact that Jane had even bothered to go through the trouble at all after he called her a fishwife. Of course she had been acting like one, but hadn’t they already established the fact that she carried that role with her, whether intentionally or not?

  
Brian only half paid attention as Lara loaded the big canning pot and both open bags of snacks back into the box, hefting it to remove it from his room.

  
“Wait. That’s hers.”

  
Lara set it back down and he rummaged through it until he found something that would serve his purpose and had her leave the box on the floor.

  
“Try to get some rest. Call if you need anything.” Lara put her hand on the knob, intending to close the door behind her but pushed it back open when he told her to leave it. She glanced once at Jane’s door, then back at him where he reclined at the top of the bed. He had placed himself in the perfect position to see the moment Jane emerged. _If_ she emerged. Lara smiled in encouragement and sauntered away to give Marc an update and fill out her daily log.

  
Brian set the box of graham crackers and the tub of dark chocolate frosting on the nightstand nearest him as Eric Clapton finished his last refrain and the beginnings of a new song came through the vent in the bathroom. The shower turned off and the music volume increased as Elvis’ signature baritone crooned:

  
_Oh well, I’m tired and so weary_  
_But I must go alone_  
_Till the Lord comes and calls_  
_Calls me away, oh yes_  
_Well the morning’s so bright_  
_And the lamp is alight_  
_And the night, night is as black_  
_As the sea, oh yes_.

  
Brian heard Jane’s voice follow along, each word in perfect time, even though she couldn’t sing for shit.

  
_There will be peace in the valley for me, some day_  
_There will be peace in the valley for me, oh Lord I pray_  
_There’ll be no sadness, no sorrow_  
_No trouble, trouble I see_  
_There will be peace in the valley for me, for me._

  
Brian vaguely recalled the song, more of the lyrics coming back to him the longer he listened.

 

_The bear shall be gentle_

_And the wolves will be tame_  
_And the lion shall lay down by the lamb, oh yes_  
_And the beasts from the wild_  
_Shall be lit by a child_  
_And I’ll be changed_  
_Changed from this creature that I am, oh yes_

  
By the time the final chorus came he was singing along, though not with the same amount of passion that Jane exhibited.

  
_There will be peace in the valley for me, some day_  
_There will be peace in the valley for me, oh Lord I pray_  
_There’ll be no sadness, no sorrow_  
_No trouble, trouble I see_  
_There will be peace in the valley for me, for me_

  
When the final strains of the music died away and no new song commenced, Brian rose from the bed and went to his bathroom. He could hear her moving around and her now familiar scent wrapped around him. She left the bathroom and Brian went back to the bed, hoping she would make an appearance.

  
Daylight was just breaking outside his window fifteen minutes later when her door cracked open and she peeked out, obviously hoping there was no one around.

  
“Milady,” Brian spoke, quelling his laughter when she jumped in surprise. “You couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

  
Seeing no help for it, since he had caught her out, she straightened and opened the door fully, crossing to stand in his, leaning on the frame. “Gee, no one’s ever told me that before.” She quipped, a trace of her irritation still evident but her raging temper was gone, leaving a sagging feeling of recrimination in its wake.

  
Feeling she should apologize for her outrageous and proprietary behavior she opened her mouth to do just that. “Brian, I…” she began.

  
“I know. Me too.” He rolled his lips in, like he hadn’t really meant to say it and was closing the proverbial barn door after the horses escaped.

  
She cocked her head and crossed her arms over her sleep tank. When he didn’t say anything else her right foot came up and rubbed the bare calf of her left leg.

  
Brian could tell she was at a loss. The nervous foot rubbing gave her completely away. What had she said earlier? People like _us_ use physical contact for grounding.

  
_Yeah, that was it…US_.

  
Could she have some kind of anxiety disorder too?

  
“I’ve been told you made my sling.” Brian said, opening a way for her to talk to him.

  
She nodded, rubbing a hand down the back of her head and neck, resting it on her shoulder.

  
“Thanks.” Brian said, not liking the departure from gregarious, saucy Jane, into this new skittish version even a tiny bit.

  
“It was no trouble.” Her eyes bled from light green to pale blue as he watched her struggle with some internal weight.

  
“I would say it _was_ a lot of trouble at the flaming butt-crack of dawn and scared out of your wits.”

  
Her gaze leapt to his face, grateful that she didn’t have to explain herself or her actions. She offered another nod and a shy, watery smile before turning back to her room.

  
“Jane?”

  
When she turned around, Brian folded back the covers on the space next to him and patted the bed once in invitation.

  
Jane gave him the full wattage of her smile this time and climbed under the covers while he unfolded his legs and stretched out on top. When he raised his good arm, she didn’t hesitate to snug into his side, never questioning when his arm bent around her shoulder and his big hand settled into her hair, toying with the short wisps behind her ear.

  
“So…Elvis?”

  
“Mmm, I have a deeper voice, so male singers are easier for me. Elvis is the easiest and that particular song forces me to breathe carefully. It helps me calm down when other stuff isn’t working. Plus, I like the words. They always make me feel better. I use Amazing Grace too, but Peace in the Valley just seemed a better fit.”

  
Brian contemplated her admission, admitting that he too felt a little lighter after the few bars he had sung. He plopped the box of crackers and tub of frosting on his lap, saying “Explain this to me.”

  
Jane opened both packages then broke the large rectangle of graham cracker into two smaller squares. Dipping one into the frosting, accumulating a good sized glob, she used the other to spread it over the surface then stuck it on the top making a kind of sandwich. “I grew up poor. In my house this was a cookie. It was substantially cheaper than premade or homemade. Mom would make them for us on holidays or other special occasions. Once in a while, if I had a really bad day, she would sneak me some and send me out behind the fence to eat them so my siblings wouldn’t see.”

  
She offered it to him. His initial response was to decline given the amount of food he had eaten at dinner and the fact it would be carbs after seven. Glancing out the window at the new morning, he figured it was a new day, but he still wavered.

  
“You’ll like it, I promise.” She wagged the “cookie” under his nose.

  
Looking down into her face, her eyes a swirl of gold and blue, the opia overtook him. It was intense and humbling, until she finally blinked and the moment was gone.

  
Fingers still twisting her short hair, he leaned forward and bit off half of the cookie. Chewing, he was surprised to find it was actually pretty good. Jane ate the remaining part and assembled another, feeding Brian and eating his leftovers. When a whole sleeve of graham crackers had been devoured and nothing but dregs were left in the frosting tub, Jane leaned her cheek into the joint of his shoulder, falling to sleep as he absently hummed Elvis’ song to himself.

  
Feeling her relax in a way only sleep can bring, Brian leaned his head on the top of hers and dreamt of boats bobbing gently in toffee colored seas.

 

* * *

 

 

A couple of hours later, Jane woke to Bear licking every available inch of her arm. After relieving her bladder and washing up she fed the puppies and wandered downstairs to the kitchen as the toaster ejected its bounty of six slices.

  
“I figured when Bear insisted on coming inside, he would wake you two. Hungry?” Emmett said from the stove where he was cooking.

  
Jane didn’t say anything, sticking her head in the fridge and coming back out with a Mountain Dew, which she popped open and drank straight down before wiping her mouth on the back of her arm and letting out an impressive belch, then sighed.

  
Emmett watched the entire scene with increasing amazement, stupefied by her lack of manners.

  
“I think your eggs are burning.” She said, pointing at his skillet.

  
Emmett shook himself and quickly transferred the fried eggs to two plates added hash browns and toast, garnishing with tiny bowls of preserves. Placing the plates, silverware, coffee carafe and cups, toast and the sugar bowl on a bed tray he asked Jane if she needed creamer for her coffee.

  
She threw away her empty can, got two new ones, putting them on the tray and hefted the entire thing waiter style and went up the steps.

  
Emmett was washing his cookware a few minutes later when Marc came in from the porch. “You might want to spread the word” Emmett said, “Ms. Jane is _not_ a morning person.”

 

* * *

 

 

Brian was sitting up in the bed when Jane returned and set the breakfast tray between them. She poured his coffee and cracked open her soda can while Brian dumped in sugar and stirred. She guzzled half the can before Brian even managed the first sip.

  
He noticed her skin was paler than usual and she had faint shadows under her eyes, but given the circumstances, she really hadn’t slept much. She finished her soda, ate a piece of toast and was toying with her second, not having touched anything else.

  
“You off your feed this morning Lady Jane?”

  
She flopped back on the mattress and moaned, “I’ve never smoked that much weed at one time before.”

  
“Ah,” Brian said, with a _now-I-get-it_ lift to his brow. As he ate, he teased, “You know, if you don’t make a happy plate, our Host with the Most is gonna be offended.” He singsonged, just to get under her skin.

  
Just the thought of food made her turn a little green as she pulled her bent legs into her belly and wrapped her arms around them. “Help a gal out would ya,” she groused, “Just eat mine, so I don’t have to.”

  
“What happened to the _Lady_ , Lady Jane?”

  
“I don’t let her out before 10 am.” She grumbled.

  
Brian thought he had had Comfortable Jane back, but this was a different Jane. This was Whiny, Grumpy Jane. He leaned back against the headboard wondering if he should even try to talk to her in this mood. Option one, He knew if he asked what was wrong, she would answer, per their agreement, but he really didn’t want to listen to more whining. Option two, he could just leave her alone, she was a grown woman capable of taking care of herself. Option three, he could call Lara and have her deal with the irascible female in his bed.

  
_Female…hmm_.

  
“Cramps?”

  
“Fuck you, Kinney, you don’t know shit.” Jane’s face pressed into the bedding so Brian could only discern every few words after that, “…men…assume…fucking…period…bastards…”

  
Brian noticed her breathing became panting and realized she was in real pain. Not knowing what to do for her he speed dialed Lara and typed in MD911 as he moved the tray off the bed. Jane’s whole body, still coiled, rolled face down and her muscles went rigid, fingers and toes white with exertion.

  
His concern leapt to a new level. He rounded the bed and crouched next to it and tried to see her face. “Jane?! Talk to me Jane, what the hell is going on? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me!”

  
Lara was momentarily stunned to find Brian perfectly fine and Jane groaning in agony, curled up in a ball on the bed. She recovered quickly and did her best to get poor woman’s vitals but didn’t get very far due to Jane’s position and inability to unlock her muscles.

  
“Give her some morphine or something!” Brian yelled, and Jane’s head twisted painfully in his direction. Her irises were almost black and the whites were blood-shot.

  
“I don’t know her medical history it may do more harm than good.” Lara shook her head.

  
“Nnnooo…dddrruggs…” Jane managed to get out around clenched teeth as her jaw seized uncontrollably.

  
Brian panicked when Lara couldn’t do anything. “Is she having a seizure? Do we need an ambulance?”

  
“I have never seen anything like this before, its beyond me.” Lara replied.

  
Brian turned back to Jane as she bit out, “Rredd…bbbaggg…”

  
Brian was across the hall before he even realized he had taken a step. Rifling her trunk, the drawers and closet he finally found a large, red, zippered make up bag on the toilet tank. He caught the corner in his teeth and unzipped it on his way back to his room and dumped the contents on the bed as he knelt on the floor. “Which one, baby.” He said, gesturing to the fifty odd bottles between their faces. Jane’s eyes were closing, “No no no, Jane, you gotta help me help you. I don’t know which one you need. Open your eyes, there’s a good girl.”

  
Brian didn’t notice when the others entered the room he was so focused on Jane’s pain. “Okay, Okay, think, Kinney. Think! Alright Jane, look at me, we’re gonna play a game okay? Just you and me and the winner has to make graham cracker cookies for the loser all week, all right?”

  
Jane’s mouth moved in a grimace Brian interpreted as an attempt to smile. “You with me? Okay the game goes like this; all you hafta do is, Jane pay attention, all you hafta do is stare at the bottle you need my job is to find it just by looking at your eyes okay? Easy peasy.”

  
Lara laid a hand on his shoulder but he shucked it off impatiently. “You ready Jane?”

  
Seeing assent in her eyes he watched as they moved to the pile between them. Brian immediately cleared away the bottles to the left and right of her gaze, leaving him with about a third. “Lara, cut open the back of her shirt, Em, climb up there and make long slow passes from shoulder to ass.”

  
They scurried to make it happen and as her shirt opened, everyone with a view drew in a startled breath. Brian glanced up, Emmett hesitated to put his hands on what he could see was extensive scarring. “Do it Em!” he shouted.

  
Looking into Jane’s eyes again, stroking her forehead, he could tell by the look she gave him that he was on the right track. “The bottles Jane, c’mon, which one?” Her eyes moved back to the pile and stayed locked on the one she needed. Brian picked up and discarded several of them until he found the one her eyes tracked when he lifted it. “Good Girl!” He kissed her face handing it back over his shoulder to Lara and she opened it. Pouring it into her hand, she had a fistful of different pills, all shapes, colors and sizes, most of which she didn’t recognize. Jane was swallowing convulsively and sweat coated her skin and hair. Large mottled patches of raised red welts were showing up everywhere Brian could see.

  
“God, baby do you need to take all of these?” he asked stroking her cheek. Her head spasmed disjointedly in response and her lips pulled back tightly from her teeth. “Fuck! Okay, okay, okay. We need to sit you up, all right?”

  
Brian’s heart pounded in his chest and acid burned its way into his mouth with what he knew was the beginnings of his own attack.

  
_No, can’t let it happen now_.

  
Marc wrapped a meaty arm carefully around her body and lifted her upright. When Brian realized she wouldn’t be able to hold herself there he climbed onto the bed behind her and braced her between his bent knees, pressing them into her sides to keep her from sliding sideways.

  
An awful, burbling sound issued from the back of her throat and Brian looked to Emmett who said, “Christ, she looks scared to death. Her eyes are HUGE!”

  
_SHITFUCKSHIT! She can’t see me anymore!_

  
Brian looked around the room for what he needed and not finding it turned to Lulah. “I need a big wall mirror. _Now_.” Noah followed her out and Brian pulled Jane’s body further back into the vee of his legs, bringing her as close to him as he possibly could, not caring that he mashed his injured arm between them.

  
He tucked his chin into the crook of her neck putting his mouth on the shell of her ear. “It’s okay we’re gonna fix it, Jane. I know you can’t see me, but we are gonna fix it okay? Just listen to me. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You gotta take your pills, baby. Focus on my hand. Can you feel my hand on your throat? Feel how gentle it is? I’m not gonna hurt you Jane.”

  
Brian’s hand stroked in long passes up and down in time with his breathing. “C’mon Jane, breathe with me like you showed me. You can do it, in…out.” Brian repeated the gesture and the words several times to no avail.

  
Noah and Lulah returned with a two foot by three foot, wall mirror, and having a good idea of what was going on, Lara had them set it on the bed and hold it steady in front of the occupants.

  
As soon as Brian could see their reflection he said, “There, see? All better. C’mon Jane, look at me in the mirror. See that? I’m still here and so are you.” Brian hadn’t stopped caressing her throat when her eyes cracked open, not enough for him to see the color, but enough for _her_ to see _him_ and grapple her gaze onto his in the reflection. “There she is! Good girl!”

The convulsive swallowing eased. “Good. That’s really good Jane. That’s right, show me your eyes baby.” His fingers moved to her jaw and began the process all over again.

  
“You have the _most mesmerizing_ eyes I have ever seen. I bet you’ve never heard that before right? No matter how many times you do though, it doesn’t make it less true. I bet your husband missed that most while he was gone didn’t he, Jane? Being the strong, silent type he probably never told you but I bet you catch him staring. Does he pick little fights with you Jane? Just so he can watch them go emerald and glittery like the first day we met? I bet he does. I would.”

  
Jane’s jaw finally slacked and Lara fed her the pills and water while Brian kept talking. He kept his voice low, even, pacing his breaths and willing hers to follow.

  
“When you _let_ him make up with you, do you let him stare into your eyes while he soothes your feathers Jane? Do you let him watch, while your temper fades and his hands stroking you makes your eyes go all soft and golden? I bet you do, Jane. I know you do. Because you like to see how much he loves it.”

  
Lara turned her palm over, indicating all the pills were gone.

  
“Good job, they are all gone. Now we are just gonna sit here while they work okay Jane? Feel my hand?” Brian was tracing his fingertips over the swell of her cheekbone. “No, don’t look away Jane, that’s it, keep watching me. I’m gonna tell you a story okay?” Brian’s eye’s said something to hers in the reflection that no one else understood, but Jane seemed to and big, fat tears began rolling down her face as she stared at him unblinking.

  
“We’re gonna get through this Jane, I promise. I’m not leaving. Okay? But I have to tell it. You know I have to.” Jane’s whole body was quaking.

  
“Once upon a time, there lived a princess with mahogany hair and emerald eyes. She was very young and spirited. She was pretty on the outside, sure enough, but it was what was on the inside that made her special.”

  
Brian didn’t know how he was going to get through this telling, but his gut _insisted_ he had to do it. His mind rebelled at sharing anything so personal in mixed company, but if it would help Jane to understand _his_ feelings then he had to do it. He was aware that he had become the anchor of this particular episode and she was hyper-aware of his every word and movement. That left him in the precarious spot of being the only one that could help.

  
“She carried a special kind of love inside her, didn’t she Jane? The kind that allowed her to love everyone. She was generous with that love and gave it away to whoever needed it and her people loved her back. She helped them tend their flocks, reap their crops and raise their children. She was very smart and passionate about a lot of things.”

  
Jane's wet stare bored into Brian’s, begging him not to tell, and pleading with him to get it out and make it go away. “ _I know_ , sweetheart.” Brian said, rubbing his big hand from her crown, down the back of her skull, and over her neck the way he had seen her do it.

  
“A monster came into her land. He became enraged and jealous. He wanted the princess for himself, didn’t he Jane? He wanted that special thing she had, to be only his, so he stole her away and then he stole _from_ her. He stole her innocence and her belief in precious things. He corrupted her, made her believe she wasn’t worthy to be loved by her people.”

  
Emmett’s hand flew to cover his mouth as Jane let out a choked, garbled, scream and her nails dug into her legs, curling impossibly further into herself.

  
Lara saw Marc blanche white at the implications and Noah slid down the wall. Tears ran silently on Lulah’s cheeks as she sank onto the bed and rubbed whatever part of Jane she could reach in support.

  
Brian drew a watery breath, his voice so deep it was almost unrecognizable. “But in his greed, he forgot that the princess was _smart_ too. She was _so_ smart she found a way to use his corruption and bend it into a _power_ for herself. She _used_ it, didn’t she Jane? She used her new power to free herself from him.”

  
Tears and snot melded together over Jane’s mouth as she turned her face into Brian’s, making him look down into her violet eyes, willing him to finish the story. He dipped his forehead to hers, both of them closing their eyes as the rest of the room faded away.

  
“The princess used her powers to put right what the monster had destroyed in her land. But _no one_ knew the _cost_ did they? They didn’t know she couldn’t kill the monster. She needed him didn’t she Jane? She needed him to feed her power, so she kept him locked away in the dungeon so he couldn’t hurt anyone else but still be there to fuel her power for her.” Brian ran fingers through her sweaty hair.

  
“ _Please_ come back, Jane. I need you. Score _two_ for you, Milady. You were right. I _am_ a selfish bastard. I want to _be_ helped Jane, you’re the only one that can fix it. No more hiding Jane, _I promise_. I beat the monster too, but I haven’t figured out how to _use it_ and it’s eating me alive. It’s crawling in my belly, Jane, and in my brain, spreading greasy shit all over everything I feel. I need you, Jane. I need you to teach me how to use it. _Please, come back_. _I need you… I need…you…I need you_ …”

  
Brian kept saying the words, believing for the first time that he _could_ be helped. He wasn’t alone. Jane had been through it too. He just kept repeating the words begging her to come back, even if it was just to tell him to fuck off.

  
His arm was cramping under her head and he didn’t care, his legs were shaking from supporting her weight and he didn’t care. His face was covered in tears and snot and he didn’t know if they were his or hers, and he didn’t care.

  
He just kept whispering his need over and over, not knowing or caring how much time passed, willing her, even going so far as to pray, for her to come back, until her body went slack in his arm.

  
Lara leapt onto the bed straddling them both the second Jane unfurled. She shone her light into her eyes and quickly took her vitals, before calmly pronouncing, “She’s fine. Sleeping.”, then getting off the bed and putting her equipment away. The relief in the room was palpable.

  
Lara put Jane’s bottles in their bag, noting the labels as she did so.

  
“What color were they?”

  
She looked up, not sure she was the one being addressed.

  
Seeing him, holding Jane’s crumpled body, her usually stoic demeanor cracked. She had not been impervious to his story, but hearing it was one thing and seeing it was another and it was written in every line of his face.

  
“Her eyes.” He said, really asking a different question altogether.

  
The forlorn and lost little boy wanting a simple answer for something that words failed. Tears welled when she realized how very alone and lonely he was, and they fell when she knew the truth would be just as painful as a lie. So she gave him the only answer she _could_ , “They looked exactly like yours do right now.”

  
Brian stared at her for several tense moments before accepting her answer with a nod.

  
Lara shared a look with the rest of the occupants when Brian buried his face in Jane’ sweaty neck. All but Emmett followed her from the room.

  
Emmett set the mirror on the floor and wedged it behind the dresser in case they needed it again. He was wiping his own tears away, trying to pull himself together when a now again familiar voice said, “I want…hmhm” Brian’s throat cleared. “Would you…help me?”

  
Emmett stood up straighter, his chest puffing with pride. Brian _do-it-all-myself-don’t-need-anyone-else_ Kinney, _trusted him_ , Emmett Honeycutt, wishy washy, sentimental, queen; to help him. Brian’s trust settled gently and easily onto his shoulders like a superheroes cape, imparting powers all its own.

  
“Sure, Brian. Anything.”

  
Brian lifted his head, smirking at Emmett from under his bangs, “ _Anything_ , Honeycutt? You may regret you said that.”

  
And there he was.

  
Just like that.

  
Brian fucking Kinney, back in charge. Ready to kick whatever this was in the teeth and laugh in the face of it all.

  
Brian fucking Kinney, ready to charge into the fray and do whatever it took until he either conquered or died.

No turning back, no second place, it was either win or go home and he had no intentions of leaving.

  
Emmett’s wide smile lit his face so brightly it became infectious, and when it tugged the corner of Brian’s mouth he said, teasingly “So, what can I do for you, Oh Great Master.”

  
Brian tried to shift Jane’s weight, but his weakened limbs didn’t cooperate and they ended up sliding sideways to the mattress, Jane’s legs coiled in Brian’s, her head on his arm. “Clean bedding, food, I imagine she’ll be starving when she wakes, and we need to get the smell off her. So a shower too.”

  
“What smell?” Emmett asked as he turned for the door.

  
“Fear.” Brian said, closing his eyes and waiting while Emmett flew down the steps, making lists in his head like the planner he was.

  
He was so engrossed in his task he almost barreled into the crowd waiting at the bottom. They all came to attention, alert, waiting for some task they could do to put right the world that had just tipped on its axis. Some form of normalcy that would hold at bay the rawness of the soul that invaded each of them in its own way.

  
“They’re okay.” Everyone sagged in relief and hope flared in eyes that had gone vacant. “I need the milking stools from the barn, not the wooden ones. We need something made that can be refrigerated and eaten cold like pasta or chicken salad.”

  
Noah ran for the door and Lulah peeled off for the kitchen.

  
“Lara, I need a list of his meds and a dosing schedule, he’s going to want privacy for a while, so I don’t think he will let you in there. He’s going to close ranks and we are going to let him, for now.” Lara agreed with Emmett’s assessment of the situation and left to take care of the task he assigned her.

  
“I need all of you to keep your distance until either they or I give you the go ahead.” Emmett said to Marc. “Right now he needs to work on himself and not be reminded every second that there is a real and dangerous threat, not just to him, but to everyone he cares about. I know you are here to protect him. I’m not asking you to stop. I’m telling you to do it from farther away.”

  
Marc looked like he wanted to say something but Emmett waved a hand in negation, “If you are that worried about his safety while he is here, give Jane a gun. Her husband is a soldier so I’d bet Lulah’s good pearls Jane knows how to use one. Besides, after what just happened up there, she’d jump in front of a bus before she let anything happen to him, and vice versa.”

  
Marc wasn’t ready to give in quite yet. “I will agree to those terms, on the condition that everyone wears a radio at all times, unless they are sleeping or bathing.”

  
“Fair enough.”

  
Noah came in with the stools and taking one in each hand, Emmett carried them upstairs and set them in the bottom of Brian’s shower. He shoved the hand nozzle into the safety bar so it could be reached and turned the water on to heat the room.

  
“Sit here with her while I get her stuff.” Brian said, when Emmett returned.

  
In Jane’s room, Brian selected toiletries and was rifling her clothing on the bed. He quickly selected a modest pair of satin briefs and an unadorned, scooped neck, cap sleeved, ankle length nightgown. He was nearing the door when the pattern struck him.

Moving back to her things, he made a pile of her undergarments. They were all extremely expensive and they were all from La Perla. Panties, camisoles, bras and nightgowns offering varying degrees of coverage. Her tastes ran the gamut from purely functional and modest, to sexy and downright racy. The thing that had caught his attention though, was every piece was the same nude color and satin fabric. There wasn’t a single instance of black lace, red silk, or white cotton anywhere. Double checking by going through the trunk again Brian realized what he was looking at.

  
“Brian? She’s shivering. What should I do?”

  
Leaving it for later, he went to his room and set her stuff on the nightstand and put her soap in the shower as he said, “It’s her body coming off the chemicals.”

  
“She’s on drugs?!”

  
“No. Brain chemicals. You know, like adrenaline and dopamine.”

  
Coming back, he carefully peeled off her top and eased the elastic of her shorts down her hips and legs.

  
“OhMyGod” Emmett gasped and instinctively hugged Jane closer to him.

  
Brian glared at him. “Did you honestly think, after seeing her back, that the sonofabitch would have ignored the front?” He tossed her sleepwear near Emmett. “Burn those.”

  
“Let me go grab some pants and I’ll…”

  
“No. I’ll do it.”

  
“Brian, your arm.”

  
“It isn’t important. Besides, you need to make the bed. Just get her in there and I will call if I want something.”

  
Emmett saw the determination in his friend’s face as Brian shimmied out of his sweat-shorts and was left wearing only briefs. He knew arguing with Brian when he was resolute was like trying to stop a locomotive with a pile of marshmallows, so he gave up without the fight.

  
Gently gathering Jane, he followed Brian and placed her on the stool in front of him, draping her legs over his thigh and leaning her head into his shoulder before leaving to make the bed.

  
Brian got them both wet and picked up Jane’s unsurprisingly unscented soap. Squeezing a healthy amount onto her torso he efficiently worked it into a lather and covered most of her body, avoiding her head so it didn’t run into her eyes. Using his own soap on himself would defeat the purpose so he used hers and did as much of his body as he could reach. Settling for just rinsing her hair really well, he got the soap off of them and held the spray on her until her shivering stopped. They stayed that way, Brian’s cheek on hers, as he quietly sang what he could remember of Amazing Grace waiting for Emmett.  
Brian didn’t know how much time passed.

  
When the faucet was flipped off, Emmett gathered Jane into the biggest towel Brian had ever seen. It was so big, that by the time Emmett carried her from the room the only thing he could see was the top of Jane’s head. Stripping off his wet underwear and leaving them in the shower he did his best to wrap a towel around his waist and picked up Jane’s tube of lotion, again unscented, and climbed onto the bed.

  
“Find her arms and legs and get some of this rubbed in.” Brian said, handing the tube to Emmett and holding out his hand for Emmett to squeeze some into his palm. Emmett did as he was told, while Brian wormed his hand under the edge of fabric, rubbing the cream into one side of her torso but keeping her modestly covered. Repeating the ritual on her other side, Brian worked efficiently. Finished with her other arm, Emmett moved to her legs, as Brian did her abdomen, watching her face the whole time for distress.

  
Finished with her front, they rolled her to her side and Brian worked awkwardly under the towel on her back.

  
“Thanks.” Emmett whispered.

  
Not letting his focus drift from Jane, Brian said, “Didn’t do it for you.”

  
“I know.” Emmett tried to lay a hand on his friend’s arm in understanding, but Brian shied away from his touch.

  
When Brian gestured for her clothing Emmett hesitated, “I can’t…”

  
“I will do it. You’ll need to help with the gown though.” Brian understood, he didn’t think he could handle seeing it again either, but there was no one else he would let in the room to do it for him. Emmett turned away as Brian slid the panties up her legs and over her hips as fast as he could.

  
Once they had her in the gown, stretched out on her right side, Brian picked up a palm sized, cut crystal decanter, pulled the stopper from the top and used it to apply Jane’s signature scent to her neck and wrists.

  
“That smells _really_ good,” Emmett hmmmd, “like nutmeg, but better.”

  
Brian lit a cigarette and sagged into the wall, watching her. “At eighteen hundred dollars an ounce, it should.”

  
Emmett folded the giant towel into his arms and sidled in next to Brian, both of them content to watch her sleep.

  
“I don’t think I have ever seen a nude color quite that pale before.” Emmett said, “It almost exactly matches the color of her skin.”

  
Brian exhaled smoke, dragging his thumb over the stubble on his jaw. “ _Lady Jane’s armor_.”

  
He could feel Emmett’s look of confusion without having to see it. So he explained.

  
“Every single one of her underthings is that same color and fabric, so when she looks at herself, for a fleeting moment, she can believe it’s real.”

  
“What’s real?”

  
“That it _is_ her skin, beautiful and soft and smooth. Not ugly and scarred.”

  
Emmett glanced at Brian, Brian’s gaze locked on Jane an indescribable look on his face.

  
Emmett turned back to her. Her right hand was tucked under the pillow, her lips parted, left arm draped along her side, hand laying over her hip. “But she _is_ beautiful! I know it’s fashionable to be skinny and all, but look at her! She’s like one of those famous marble sculptures or something.” Emmett waved a hand emphatically.

  
“Cool your jets, Bernini. I happen to agree with you.” Brian said drolly. He took his time, letting his eyes take in everything about her form. Emmett was right, she did look like the statues from the old world. Like _Venus Crouching_ or Toscano’s _Aphrodite Torso_ , the notable exception being her breasts were fuller and her natural waist much narrower. He remembered her negative comments about her body and looked at her more critically. She was right. _Yes_ , it was obvious she had carried children, evidenced by the looser skin and fleshy roundedness below her navel that no amount of crunches would ever dispel. _Yes_ , her breasts were _not_ high and hard like Hollywood would have women believe they should be. They had been through the feeding of babies and though still generous and firm, fell naturally lower, but not grotesquely so. As for her ass, Brian could see nothing wrong with it. Sure, it was not a bubble butt or even that of an athlete, but its generous mounds formed into a perfectly shaped, upside down, heart with the curves accentuating the wider flare of hip and thigh, and the point drawing the observer to the narrowness of her waist. All in all, she had what Brian had heard referred to as an hourglass shape. Definitely not ready for a runway in _these_ time, but most definitely _not_ something to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Quite simply, she was Jane, and her body told her story.

  
“How old do you think she was?” Emmett whispered and Brian didn’t even pretend not to understand the question.

  
_No more hiding, Jane, I promise_.

  
His words to her, echoed in Brian’s mind and even though it left him feeling raw and vulnerable, he answered truthfully. “Younger than I was, I suspect.”

He crushed out his cigarette and pushed off the wall, moving to the dresser for clean underwear and shorts.

  
“Brian?”

  
“Not all of us wear our scars on the outside. Close the door on your way out.”

 

* * *

 

 

To:Zephyr@LibertyComics.com

From:BAK@KinnetikKorp.com

  
You know how it is on vacation, laying around, working on my tan, no time for phone calls…I will make it up to you later.  
Your welcome for the theater. Don’t mention it… _Really_ …don’t say _anything_ about it. You will do much better in the press on opening day if you keep my name out of it. As for balconies, where there is a will there is a way.  
Man, you _must_ be getting _OLD_! Don’t you remember how horny you were all the time at his age? Cut him some slack, _DAD_ , he is happily swimming away in pools of pussy. Get over it already.  
I’m glad you watched, did you make a donation?  
Not sure about the holidays yet, busy, busy, busy.

  
Always Have,

  
Brian

 

Brian looked up from where he was, on the bed, as Bear sat down in the doorway. He seemed to just want to watch Jane, so Brian went back to his emails.

 

To:CynTAK@KinnetikKorp.com  
From:BAK@KinnetikKorp.com

 

Press release is a go.  
Did you ever doubt it?  
Just fuck him already, you know what a _bitch_ you are when you aren’t getting laid regularly.  
Of course I did.  
How else was I supposed to keep the smart little fucker busy and distracted without using my dick?  
I’m doing alright.  
I think I should tell her about _it_?

 

New Business:

  
See if you can get a meet with whomever is in charge of La Perla for after the new year. Hint at a new line of underthings for a specific and targeted market that will generate loads of good press. I will get you more details as they become available. This is new for us too, so keep it to yourself for now.

 

B

 

Seeing Brian engrossed, Bear crouched on his belly and inched his way to Jane’s side of the bed.

 

 

To:SunnyBoy@Trix4Kix.net  
From:ThunderStud@Trix4Kix.net

 

I miss you.

 

Later

 

 

To:LinSaP@SBGal.com  
From:BAK@KinnetikKorp.com

 

You are.  
You WILL.

 

Brian

 

 

Hearing the distinctive sound of licking of skin, Brian glanced up and caught Bear mid-swipe. The big dog froze, tongue halfway out with a guilty look on his face. Brian laughed out loud. When Bear’s expressive eyebrows cocked in question in Jane’s direction, Brian understood the feeling.

  
“Just for tonight. We are _not_ making a habit of this.”

  
Bear laid down and Brian moved the puppy drawer to that side of the bed and within minutes all three hounds were sleeping. He went back to his laptop.

 

 

To:MelMar@TNJ.org  
From:BAK@Kinnetik.com

 

Thanks for not kicking her _waspy_ ass to the curb. She’s hard to understand most of the time, but you do it better than most.

  
I should have included you.

 

Asshole

 

* * *

 

 

Setting the computer aside, Brian looked around for something else to occupy, if not his thoughts, then his hands. Seeing nothing else, he noted the time, and made his way downstairs to the kitchen for coffee.

  
Lara, Noah, and Emmett sat companionably around the table eating a late breakfast and chatting as Brian made his cup and took it to an empty chair.

  
“How’s our little sleeping beauty doing?” Emmett asked.

  
“Okay, I guess,” Brian replied, “for someone that has been asleep for sixteen hours and fifty-two minutes. _Right?”_ he asked the last, looking at Lara for confirmation.

  
“I see no reason to think otherwise.” She said.

  
“What’s the plan for today boys and girl?” He said to no one in particular.

  
Emmett perked up, “I’m going shopping. We need some fresh foods from the market so I thought I would head into town. You need anything?” Emmett was already working on his list.

  
“Yeah, but I need you here. Noah? You think you can handle the shopping? I have a project that needs Emmett’s attention.”

  
When the dark man agreed, Emmett went to great lengths explaining exactly what everything on the list was and where Noah should get it from before flipping the page and turning to Brian.

  
“What’s your list, sweetie?”

  
Brian finished his coffee, setting the cup down and standing up. Hooking his fingers into the back of his waistband he said, “A half dozen boxes of plain graham crackers and at least a dozen tubs of assorted chocolate flavors of frosting. Also one in strawberry and another of buttercream. Emmett, add the ingredients for that dish she was telling you about at dinner the other night, it didn’t seem all that complicated to make. A stack of comic books, preferably with female heroes, you pick. A copy of _One Eyed Jacks_ and _Cheaper by the Dozen_ with Lucille Ball, not the newer one. Uhm, two cases bottled beer, a couple cases of water, a dog bed. A big one. Four cases of, _God help me_ , Mountain dew. A coffee maker, high-end. A good sized mini fridge or, barring that, a small refrigerator. Two plush, rolling, desk chairs…”

  
Brian started pacing as his thoughts turned to plans in his head and Emmett watched him get into his groove.

  
“two sets navy satin sheets in king and two sets navy cotton in king, you know the thread count. Four extra soft pillows also king and extra pillowcases. Temporary colored hairspray in every color available, skittles, and marshmallows, the really big ones. Emmett? How much fabric would it take to make an outfit for someone Jane’s size?”

  
“Depends on what your making but six yards should cover it.”

  
Brian nodded, doing some quick mental calculations. “Eight yards each in leather, vinyl, satin spandex and brocade. Oh, and some of that really wide elastic that looks like bandaging. All of it black. A really high-end digital camera with video capabilities and extra memory cards. A tripod and large photo printer. Extension cords and droplights. Pringles, plain, six cans and three cans of sharp cheddar spray cheese. Photo paper in glossy and matte, Doritos, three bags. Eyeshadows in emerald, gold and bronze all metallic, no-smear lipstick in the darkest red you can find without losing the red, high gloss and matte. An ear cuff, the jewelry kind, metal, preferably with no gems. A gallon of corn syrup, red food coloring and a spray bottle. Two cans of black spray paint, one silver and another of bronze. Hair wax. Parachute cord, black, four yards. And ahh…a knife? Yeah, a knife, military style with a brass knuckle grip. French vanilla ice cream and caramel topping. Lots of caramel topping.”

  
Brian grabbed Emmett’s elbow and none too gently hauled him to his feet and dragged him up the steps hollering, “And somebody get me some more weed!” as they went.

  
Lara snuck a peek at Noah who looked like he wanted to throw up. He didn’t know anything about fabric or some of the other stuff on the list and realizing it was _not_ going to be a quick trip to town, she patted his hand and offered to go with him.

 

* * *

 

 

Emmett was still in shock as he stood in the middle of Jane’s room, Brian moving around him, frenetically collecting her things and stuffing them in her trunk and talking.

 

  
“Wha… Brian, what are you _doing_?”  
Brian stopped directly in front of him and grabbed the side of Emmett’s neck. “Listen to me, Honeycutt. Are you listening?”

  
Emmett focused on him and nodded.

  
“We are moving Jane into my room. You will move my dresser over so the one in here will fit next to it. Everything else but the bed and desk are leaving this room. It is now a workspace. Capisce?”

  
Emmett’s head bobbed. “Oh, um, okay?”

  
Brian got ahold of Marc on the radio and with the burly man doing the grunt work all the furniture was rearranged to Brian’s exacting specifications. Emmett took great care putting Jane’s things away into her dresser and Brian’s closet. He installed another shelf in Brian’s bathroom for her toiletries and rustled up an extra toothbrush holder for her toothbrush and toothpaste. The puppies woke, but Brian was busy across the hall, so he fed them, played with them for a while and wisely kept his mouth shut about Bear being in the room. He had just returned the sleeping pups to the drawer when Brian stuck his head in the door.

  
“Show me where she made the sling.”

  
Emmett indicated for him to follow and led the way to the cellar, showing Brian the boxes and bins of sewing related items. As Brian pulled bins haphazardly onto the floor one handed, Emmett handed him an empty, then stood back and observed.

  
Brian was a whirlwind. It was readily apparent that he had some vision in his head he was trying to replicate. He would search through a bin quickly and not finding what he wanted would shove it aside. Conversely, he would come across something that fit the bill and would toss it into the bin Emmett had handed him. It was fascinating to the big queen how decisive Brian was. There was no hesitation or prevarication of choices in the things he picked up. The item either matched the vision or didn’t. Once the decision was made he did not reexamine a single piece.

  
Leaving the mess and pulling the bin of selected items onto his hip, Brian said, “Grab the mannequin and send Marc back down her for the sewing machine.”

 

* * *

 

 

Brian spent the next _several_ hours making rudimentary sketches and talking out what he wanted with Emmett and Lulah. Together they surfed the net, ordered footwear and several other items that caught Brian’s attention, and took Jane’s measurements before tucking her under the duvet. Emmett went downstairs in the afternoon to get dinner started, leaving an excited Brian discussing the possibilities of a military themed piping with Lulah as she turned dials and expanded panels on the segmented sewing mannequin.

  
“That’s as close as I can get it, Brian, but it is still too small in the bust and hip.” Lulah was saying as Brian’s displeasure was working up to a full head of steamed frustration.

  
He raked a hand through his hair, trying to come up with a solution for making the mannequin match Jane’s fuller proportions. It was close, but he wanted it perfect. Leaving the room for a couple of minutes, he came back with one of Jane’s bras dangling in his hand and handed it over without a word.

  
Lulah got the idea without having to be told and put it on the mannequin’s chest, hooking it in the back, saying, “There is some upholstery batting in the cellar.”

  
Brian went to retrieve it, passing Emmett in the kitchen who said, “Dinner’s almost done, and I think I just heard the truck pull in.”

  
Brian ignored him.

  
When he came back from the cellar, the large bag of batting under his arm, he bounded up the steps two at a time, not stopping to help as the others unloaded the stuff from the shopping excursion into the living room.

  
“Lulah?” Brian called, as he hit the top of the steps and turned into the workroom. “You wouldn’t happen to have a girdle would you?”

  
She gave him a disgusted look, very similar to one he had seen Emmett pull. “Now why on earth would I have one of those torture devices? This is the way God made me and I don’t fool around with tryin’ change it for someone else’s ideals of beauty.”

  
Brian dropped the batting and held his hand up in surrender. “I didn’t mean that!” he said pointing to her ample girth then gesturing to the mannequin’s inadequate hips, “I meant for _that_.”

  
“Oh,” she said, catching his drift and thinking about it for a few minutes while Brian stuffed the bra until it’s double D cups were all the way full and firm.

  
“Weeelll…” Lulah said, whispering as if imparting a dirty secret, “I _do_ have a couple pairs of control top pantyhose we could use.”

  
Brian grinned boyishly at her, then narrowed his eyes in that sexy way he had. “The way God made you, Huh?”

  
Lulah squared her shoulders indignantly, imperiously announcing, “Well, the good book _does say_ , the Lord helps those that help themselves.” before she turned and flounced from the room.

 

* * *

 

Emmett found them sitting on the floor thirty minutes later laughing their asses off as they stuffed batting into the shape of legs. He set his tray on the desk, placing his hands on his hips, and cleared his throat loudly until he had their attention.

  
“I’ve been calling you to dinner for forever. What the hell is going on in here?”

  
Brian wagged a half stuffed leg in his direction. “Can’t you tell? We’re making a sex doll.”

  
That set Lulah and Brian off in fresh peals of laughing, causing Emmett to just shake his head.

  
“Well since you two knuckle heads seem to not want to leave this room, I took pity on you and brought you some dinner. I insist you stop right now and eat before it gets cold.”

  
Brian didn’t want to stop, he was on a roll and wanting to keep going now that the rest of the supplies were there, but seeing the mutinous expression on Emmett’s face he stood up and went to the desk. He didn’t even look at the food, he just started shoveling, not caring what it was, or what it tasted like, _carbs be damned_.

  
Emmett had never seen Brian eat like that before, but wisely refrained from commenting. Instead he took Brian’s place on the floor and stuffed. When Lulah thought the legs were good Emmett helped her up from the floor and they pulled them onto the mannequin and began filling the hips and backside.

  
Brian was chewing and talking with his mouth full, trying to give them directions on how to do it when Emmett lost patience. “I’m a big, fat, nelly, queen, Brian! I think I have enough experience with drag to know how to pad an ass!”

  
Brian gave him a sarcastic look and went back to eating.

  
Once the top part of the pantyhose had been filled, Lulah took some measurements, consulted her notes, made some adjustments and pronounced the headless model finished. Brian stepped over, food all but forgotten, and ran his hand over the curves. Closing his eyes and taking his time, he mentally compared it Jane.

  
When he found it accurate, he opened his eyes. “ _Now the fun begins_.”

 

  
He had said it with such, intensity, that both Emmett and Lulah knew that there would be no sleep for anyone in the house except Jane until Brian’s vision was accomplished.

 

* * *

 

 

Brian held the stiff, square, leather pouch as Lara punched the last the hole in the strap and affixed a black metal grommet with the special tool. Brian moved to stand in front of the now fully clothed mannequin and used his knee to brace the pouch on its hip and struggled to wrap the strap around its hips.

  
Lara _wanted_ to help but didn’t offer, _knowing_ he would refuse it anyway. The more tired he had gotten, the more he wanted to do himself. He became increasingly picky and exacting, driving Emmett to finally throw his hands up in exasperation and flopping on the bed in defeat. Lara looked at him, now sleeping and snoring. Lulah had gone to bed forty minutes ago, and she had to admit, she hoped Brian was ready to call it quits too. It had been an extremely long day for everyone.

  
Brian managed to get the strap fastened, along with its companion on the thigh, and stepped back to see the whole ensemble. Lara watched him as he moved around it, stroking a finger here, touching a seam there, testing ties and fasteners.

When she finally saw his muscles relax, she knew he was done. She lit him a cigarette and leaned a butt cheek on the edge of the desk.

  
He came over and mimicked her pose, taking the cigarette from her hand, eyes still on his creation. He hadn’t done the sewing or anything much of that nature, only directing the others, but what came out of it was stunning. He had been very clear in what he wanted and as they worked they all came to understand, without actually discussing it, what it was _for_ and worked diligently and without complaint because they wanted it right for the same reason. She was hopeful that Jane, smart woman that she was, would see it for what it was.

  
Brian stuck the cigarette between his teeth, put his hand on the side of Lara’s neck over her curlicue tattoo, and squeezed gently. “I keep _telling you_ to stop thinking so _loud_ , Doc.” He pulled his hand back, retrieving his smoke. “You’ll wake Emmett.” he teased.

  
Lara looked at his creation again. “It’s… _powerful_.” she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. “Its… _feminine_ , and… _alluring_.”

  
Brian stubbed out his cigarette. “Mmmhmm”

  
Lara saw the grin in his eyes just before he left. She walked to the model, running her hand down the bodice, she said to no one in particular, “Just like Jane.” before crawling into the bed with Emmett.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jane woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window. Craning her neck to look at the clock on the nightstand she saw that it was one in the afternoon. Right next to it was a can of Mountain Dew in a Tupperware bowl with mostly melted ice in it. Two seconds later, she became painfully aware of how full her bladder was.

  
Slipping out from under Brian’s leg draped over hers, she grabbed the can and raced into his bathroom, quietly closing the door behind her.

  
Brian had awakened the minute she left the bed. He lay there with his eyes closed, wondering _which Jane_ he would get when she came back, fretting over whether or not she would be upset over what might be construed as high-handedness and proprietary behavior, by moving her in with him.

  
He listened as she flushed the toilet. His agitation increased when he heard her open the soda and a few minutes later the can hitting the bottom of the metal trash can. The sink turned on, water splashed and his patience was at its limit while she brushed her teeth.

  
He took great pains to ensure his breathing was easy and kept his eyes closed when she crawled back into the bed. She curled back into her former position against his side and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. To Brian, it seemed she at least didn’t have a problem with waking up in his bed with him.

  
She squirmed a bit, twisting her hips, trying to get more comfortable when Brian heard her mumble something about Pavlov’s dogs. It went on for a few more minutes until she jerked to the side, away from him and let out a frustrated groan. There was some more wriggling, the sound of something soft hitting the rug, and Brian suddenly knew what it was all about.

  
“Something _wrong_ Lady Jane?” he drolled, opening his eyes in time to see her look of embarrassment.

  
“It’s this…” she started, blushing to her hairline.

  
“ _It’s?”_ Brian countered as her legs bent up then flattened again.

  
“It’s the gown! Okay?” she said in a hissing whisper. She was clearly frustrated and not wanting to admit what the problem was.

  
“It _is_ a very pretty gown.” Brian teased her, “What’s it ever done to you, to make you so upset?”

  
“I’m _not_ upset!” she squirmed again, hugging her waist as the blanket slipped to her abdomen and her nipples went hard. “I only wear…uhgh.”

  
Brian took pity on her, sidling closer so he could lean into her ear. “You…on-ly…wear… it…for…sssexx…” he paused on every word, drawing out every syllable, lingering on the silibant esses, relishing when his breath in her ear sent tremors over her skin and she swallowed hard, just to open her mouth, drag in a breath and do it again. She turned her head, nose to nose with him, her breaths wafting over his lips, her moist hazel eyes locking on his as she nodded.

  
He rubbed the tip of his nose slowly over hers, once, twice, staring intently, “Nothing wrong with getting your needs met.”

  
The relief, that he understood, flooded her eyes and Brian couldn’t look away. “Tell me what you need.”

His eyes went dark and hooded, touching his forehead to hers, gazes entwined as she slid her hands under both of his waistbands and eased them down as far as she could, then using her foot to get them the rest of the way off his legs. She rucked her gown up to the top of her thighs and turned away from him pulling his arm under her neck and curling his forearm down over her breast, spreading his fingers out on the ribs at her side.

  
She was still carefully watching him as she coasted her palm from his thigh, up over his hipbone, and over his navel, silently asking permission.

“Whatever you want, baby.” Brian breathed, barely holding back the moan when she wrapped fingers around his morning wood and positioned it between her legs.

  
Brian understood what she seemed to want and closed the small distance between them as she moved her left arm back over his waist and hip, spooning her from behind. He shifted a bit, cradling her ass in his groin, making his dick slip, first forward then back in her already wet cleft. She hadn’t placed him for penetration, but she hadn’t forgotten about him either. The fingers of her left hand curled back behind her into the muscle of his buttock as he flexed into her and she had her right hand under his cock between her legs, pressing it up against her folds as he flexed again. This time, he went far enough to graze the tip of his cock over her clitoris, eliciting a breathy sigh of pleasure.

  
Brian let her set the pace, her hand on his ass giving the directions as he continued slowly rolling his hips into her and staring at her eyes, watching as, each time he hit the spot, they would glaze a little more, taking her someplace else as they shifted from hazel, lightening to pale green. He felt himself drowning, the warm satin of her gown rubbed his chest all the way to his hips where not impeded by the sling. It was a new sensation for him and he found it pleasing as her nutmeg fragrance became more powerful from the heat of her body. He breathed it in, as she rocked her hips in counterpoint to his, increasing the slippery, sliding, sensation for both of them. Her irises narrowed as her pupils blew wide and he could see that she was close to peaking.

  
He swallowed hard, not wanting to take that from her, or the quiet she seemed to want, by speaking what he needed. She understood anyway and subtly adjusted her hand under his shaft so the knuckle of her thumb pressed into the big vein that ran its length giving him a snugger passage. It worked to her advantage as well, and it wasn’t long, even with her slower, easy, pacing, before he could feel his balls draw up and her flesh quiver in anticipation, the only sound in the room her hums of pleasure. He was so close, so was she, and when she pressed her thumb up harder, making his cockhead _drag_ over her clit on the next pass, she came apart in his arms and his cum soaked her pubes and forearm.

  
“I was right,” he said, his voice husky, gentle, nuzzling his scruffy chin into her neck and inhaling deeply, “ _soft and golden_.”


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 

 

Oh, the cleverness of me!

 

J.M. Barrie

 

 

 

_WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST DO!_

“How long was I out?” Jane asked from the shower, her voice carrying easily since she hadn’t bothered to close the bathroom door.

 

“The better part of two days.” Brian replied, shifting onto his back and lighting up, the sheet plastering to his still sticky dick.

 

_Who are you kidding? You know exactly what you just did._

_Yeah, I fucked my therapist._

_Nooo, you…mutually masturbated? Frotted? Humped?_

_Whatever…_

“God! No wonder I’m starving. I could eat a fucking cow!” she was saying, oblivious to his internal argument.

 

_Besides, there was no penetration. Penetration equals sex…right?_

_Sooo, no penetration, no sex._

_Ohhkaaay…_

_Do you think she’s gonna get all clingy and needy now?_

_Says the guy that begged her to come back and make the monsters go away?_

_Bastard!_

_Fucker!_

_Just admit you did it so she could have some control of something after her mind betrayed her._

_“…”_

_You know all about that don’t you?_

_“…”_

_Making someone else feel the way YOU want them to._

_“…”_

_Using sex to feel in control. Take back the reins, so to speak._

“ _…”_

_Got nothing to say? Isn’t that why you just drove everyone fucking insane over your little “project”?_

_Cut me some slack, I haven’t had sex since I left the hospital, fuck, I haven’t even jerked off since then._

_So?_

_Like I said, it’s about getting needs met. Not like I’m gonna marry her or anything._

_So, are you gonna do it again?_

_Shut the fuck up?_

_You…are…so…pathetic._

 

“Brian? Didn’t you hear me?” Jane asked, wrapped in a towel and standing in the door of the bathroom.

 

“What?” Brian dropped the cigarette in the ashtray when he noticed he had held it for so long it had burned all the way to the filter.

 

“I asked if you wanted me to leave the shower on for you. Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” he said, staring at the ceiling.

 

Jane sat on the far edge of the mattress, careful not to invade his personal space. “If I made you uncomfortable, Brian, just say so.”

 

“You didn’t.”

 

“Then what are you worried about, and don’t try to deny, since I can see it in your eyes.”

 

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

 

He rolled from the bed, made sure not to make eye contact with her and went to the bathroom where she had left the shower running for him.

 

Jane made the bed, noticing the bedding was different than before, pulling all the corners tight on the mattress and pillows, smoothing all the wrinkles away. She lit a cigarette and decided that if Brian really _did_ want to be alone, he would have closed the bathroom door. _And locked it_.

 

Taking the ashtray with her she went in and sat on the closed toilet and crossed her legs while she smoked.

 

“Thank you.” she said, “for helping me.”

 

Brian didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that, so he didn’t say anything as he let the hot water pound into his back.

 

“That wasn’t the worst episode I’ve ever had, but it ranks in the top three.”

 

“…”

 

“It’s been about five years since I’ve had one I couldn’t get myself out of.”

 

“…”

 

“It was right after the shooting.”

 

“Jane.” He didn’t want her to talk about it anymore.

 

“I won’t ask you to do it again, Brian.” Jane switched topics, probing into their recent intimacy.

 

“It’s fine, Jane, I understand.” Which he did, _perfectly_.

 

“I know you do, Brian. I just want you to know that I understand why you did it, and it won’t become a problem.”

 

Assured that she that she knew it was a one-time deal, he said, “So, Milady, what do you want for breakfast?”

 

“It’s almost two in the afternoon.”

 

“So?”

 

Jane chuckled and Brian snickered. Comfortable Jane was back and Brian would feed her whatever she wanted, if only to keep the monsters at bay.

 

“Double cheeseburger, with bacon, fries and a strawberry shake.” she said, leaving the bathroom to get dressed.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Well, sleeping beauty, how do you feel?” Emmett hurried to Jane when she sat at the table, leaning over her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

 

“I’m fine, Emmett, really.” she said, patting his arm.

 

“So, sweetie, are you hungry?” Emmett tied on the red apron and picked up a spatula, signaling his readiness to feed her.

 

“Starving, but you don’t have to cook for me, I’ll put something together myself.”

 

“Nonsense! I’m already here, so what’ll it be?”

 

“Bacon cheeseburger, fries, strawberry shake.” Brian said from the door as he rubbed a towel over his wet hair, jeans barely staying up on his too narrow hips.

 

“I wasn’t talking to _you_ , slave driver, I was talking to Ms. Jane.”

 

“Actually, Emmett, that _was_ my order.” Jane said, making Brian stick out his tongue at Emmett and Emmett to flip Brian the bird.

 

Emmett bent to get ingredients from the fridge and, not willing to waste the target, Brian snapped the towel on his ass, making him squeak like a girl. Emmett shot him a dirty look but Brian was absolutely unrepentant, rolling his lips in to hide the smile and not doing a very good job of it.

 

Jane laughed at their antics, sensing it was old-hat for them both. Brian retrieved two Dews and a beer, plunking the cans in front of Jane, cracking one open for her before he sat back down.

 

After getting the meat started Emmett brought out lettuce, tomato, and onion, grabbing a sharp knife from the block and cutting board as he passed the counter top. He set them on the end of the table and turned back to the stove to check the burgers.

 

Jane slid them towards her, glancing to make sure Emmett wasn’t looking and stood up, fingers opening and closing on the handle of the knife reflexively before she took in a long slow breath and let it out. Hefting the weight for a second, her fingers curled comfortably and she began to slice.

 

Brian watched in fascinated silence as she deftly held the tomato in her left hand, cutting neat, even, thin, slices with her right, and shingling them out across the edge of the board with one swipe, like a dealer at a poker table. She did the same with the onion, shingling it in the center of the board and picked up the head of lettuce, giving it a quarter-counter-turn and slamming it onto the table. Emmett jumped, saw what she was doing and went back to his skillet. Jane dug her fingers in around the now loosened core and yanked it out, tossing it free-throw style into the garbage bin. She cut the head in half, laid one side on its flat and cut it lengthwise again, picking up the quarter, setting it on the board and doing her dealer move, finishing her display of vegetables and sitting back in her seat.

 

Brian clapped his hand on the table in appreciation and swigged his beer. “Milady has many talents.” he teased scratching at the three days-worth of scruff on his jaw with his thumb.

 

Jane gave him a mock bow as Emmett brought their plates to the table and retrieved the fries from the microwave. He used the pulsar to whip up the shakes and sat at the end of the table between them. They had each just finished piling condiments on their buns when Emmett looked at Brian and said, “You’re looking especially healthy this morning.”

 

Brian shrugged, biting into his burger.

 

“You’re awfully cheery this morning too.”

 

Emmett looked at his companions. It wasn’t unusual for Brian to ignore a conversation, but that could not be said about Jane who was stuffing her mouth in what appeared to be an attempt to not be required to speak.

 

“In fact,” Emmett said, rubbing it in. “if I didn’t know any better I would say you spent the morning fu…” Emmett looked at Brian, Brian looked at Jane, and Jane looked at her plate shoving the last of her burger into her mouth, making her face look like a chipmunk.

 

Emmett took a closer look at Jane’s neck and what he had _thought_ was a mottled patch from her episode, but upon closer inspection wasn’t the same brightness or raised texture and he glanced between them again, noting Brian’s whiskers, his brain rebelling at the possibilities. “Is that…beard burn…?”

 

Both of their chairs scraped back, Brian’s tipping over as they shared a look, grabbed the shakes and beat a hasty retreat for the back door.

 

“Of all the…” Emmett could only shake his head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“The barn.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I have to repay a favor.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“…”

 

“What kind of favor?”

 

“It was more a trade of services.”

 

“Well, if I had known you were that hard up…”

 

“Ha, ha, ha, Lady Jane. Not _that_ kind of service.” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her after him.

 

Brian opened the barn door, wrinkling his nose at the smell. They both looked at their shakes, decided against them and set them on a bale of hay as they entered.

 

Lulah’s voice came from somewhere at the other end. “I was wondering if you were going to wake up today.”

 

Jane opened her mouth to reply when Lulah spoke again. “I was going to give you ten more minutes before I came up there and dragged your skinny ass out here.”

 

“Now I _know_ she’s talking to you.” Jane said, turning to Brian, giving him a gamine smile as his brow furrowed and he pinched a non-existent muffin-top at his side. Jane back handed his arm and rolled her eyes.

 

“Well hurry up boy, this won’t get done with you standing _out there_.”

 

Brian turned to Jane and mouthed “boy?”.

 

Jane gave him a “if the shoe fits” shrug, laughing outright when he frowned and walking off to find their hostess.

 

Brian looked at his pecs, flexing the muscle to make sure they were still “manly” and glanced up in time to see Jane have a freak, deer in the headlights moment then quickly recover as Marc stepped out of a stall near her. She made a small adjustment to her path, giving him a slightly wider berth and kept going until she found Lulah in with the goats at the other end of the barn and disappearing into the stall.

 

Marc’s confusion was clear on his face, and Brian realized Jane wasn’t quite as “comfortable” as he had thought she was after her episode. He tilted his head in the direction of the door and Marc took the cue and left, handing Brian his pitchfork and radio on the way out.

 

Brian was still trying to figure out how to wear the radio and still keep the weight from pulling his pants off, when Jane and Lulah herded the goats into the small paddock attached to the back wall of the barn, Jane peppering the older woman with questions about the horses and the possibility of riding.

 

“They can all be ridden, but if you want something other than a lazy trot, you’d do best by skipping the mares and saddling up the big stud over there.” Lulah was saying.

 

Brian cleared his throat pointedly, getting Jane’s attention and sticking a finger in his own chest and shaking his head.

 

Jane let out a burst of laughter. “NO! I don’t think she meant you, Asshole.”

 

Lulah caught the byplay and rubbed it in. “Something tells me you don’t take well to the saddle anyway.”

 

“You never know, it could be fun, maybe.” he said, shooting Lulah his sexiest grin.

“I’m sure.” Lulah deadpanned.

 

“Alright, you two.” Jane said, turning to Lulah, “What are we supposed to do today.”

 

“We’re mucking stalls, but given the stud is gimpy, you can show him how to groom the horses.” Lulah said.

 

“Hey, who are you calling gimpy?” Brian asked in mock offense.

 

Jane grabbed his elbow and steered him to the nearest mare’s stall, selecting a curry brush, a soft bristle brush, and a sheepskin mitt from the plastic bin hanging on the wall.

Jane greeted the sorrel when she stuck her head over the door, ears pricked in interest. She went through a quick tutorial on how to use the equipment making Brian repeat the instructions after her then showing her he could do it before she went back to the goat stall.

 

Jane found an old radio in the little medical area and after some surfing, found a station that played popular songs from the eighties and nineties leaving Brian to do his job.

 

The rest of the afternoon passed in companionable repartee and ribbing, though Brian often felt like he was being ganged up on by the two women. He took their jibes of stud and gimpy with good humor, occasionally stopping to go wherever they were to check on Jane without being obvious about it. Lulah praised Jane often, crowing to Brian every time she saw him about how hard working and non-complaining she was, in a clear effort to raise what she thought might be low self-esteem. Brian would nod and go back to the horses.

 

He was standing outside the stud’s stall in a stare down with the big animal, when Jane approached about two hours before nightfall. She was sweaty and rumpled from the work, but look refreshed and invigorated at the same time.

 

“What’s the problem, Stud?” she said, nudging her shoulder into Brian’s arm.

 

“It’s really big.”

 

“Draught breeds usually are, though he’s even bigger than most. Haven’t you ever seen one before?”

 

Brian was over six feet tall and the horse’s shoulder was above his head. “Not this close.”

 

“Alright, how about I take him for a ride, bring him back tired, then we can clean him up together?”

 

Brian’s face said she was absolutely, flaming, out of her mind, crazy. “You can’t ride that thing. It’s as big as a bus.” The doubt was clearly etched in his face.

 

Jane shot him a smile, mischief glinting in her eyes, as she jumped up hollering for Lulah. “Where’s the stud’s tack?”

 

Lulah finished putting away her gear. Nearing them she said, “I didn’t think you’d want to ride him today, honey. I’m sorry. The cinch broke on his saddle and I had to send it out for repairs. It’s a specialty job, otherwise I would have fixed it myself.”

 

“That’s alright, you got a rope?” Jane asked.

 

Lulah nodded, leading her to a door next to his stall and showing her into the tack room. Jane selected a length about five feet long and about the thickness of her thumb and tied a loop in each end, Lulah handing her the bridle and reins.

 

Lulah looked unsure. “You’re gonna bareback?”

 

“Mmmhmm.” Jane said coming back out and setting her equipment on the stack of hay bales Brian was leaning on.

 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” he said.

 

“Life is dangerous, Brian. No one gets out alive. Don’t worry so much. I’ve done it before.”

 

She turned back to Lulah. “What’s his name?”

 

“His name’s Dandy. You sure you want to do this?” she sounded skeptical.

 

Jane ignored them, calling the horse’s name until his head swiveled her way. She approached him slowly, letting him scent her, talking to him and telling him how pretty he was. When she was close enough he pushed his head into her chest and from Brian’s standpoint he had an alarming view of the horse’s lips near Jane’s knees and his ears over her head as she reached up on tiptoes to rub the crest of his neck. Brian swallowed hard.

 

She got the bridle on him and led him over to the hay bales and used them to climb onto Dandy’s broad back. She slipped a foot in each of the loops on her rope and tucking it under her knees, she made a few adjustments to her perch then gave him a nudge to walk.

 

Brian and Lulah followed them from the barn into the yard where Bear took notice of them and ran happy circles around woman and horse. Jane spent the next few minutes running through some paces, ensuring Dandy would follow her lead and set off at a trot around the buildings.

 

To give himself something to do with his hands, Brian smoked, trailing after Lulah to the front porch, sitting on the top step as she sat in the swing. Horse and rider angled to the “road” leading to the lodge and picked up into a canter. They hit the curve at the half mile and disappeared.

 

Emmett came out, announcing dinner and when no one said anything, put his hands on his hips. “What are ya’ll doin’?”

 

“Waiting for Jane, she took Dandy for a ride.” Lulah replied.

 

Brian lit another cigarette with the butt of his old one. Emmett sat next to him.

 

“Fuck off Honeycutt.”

 

“Hey…”

 

They heard them before they saw them, all eyes fixed to the road, thundering hooves and a high pitched female scream, as Dandy rounded the bend at a full out run, mane and tail streaming behind him and Jane stretched out nearly flat on his back, cheek pressed into his neck just above the shoulder, over shirt whipping in the wind, her feet in their rope tucked up behind her ass, having the time of her life.

 

They circled the buildings, and coming back to the front took the lane again, Dandy’s dinner plate sized hooves throwing up big clods of dirt behind them. As they moved farther away, the dense trees muffled then masked their passing until a few minutes later they came thundering and screaming back, to repeat the circuit all over again. By the fourth circuit everyone was watching, Marc muttering about babysitting careless females. Brian agreed with him, but didn’t say anything lest Lara or Lulah jump his case like they did Marc’s.

 

When Dandy came in for the eleventh pass, Lulah used the whistle on her keychain, and he immediately began tapering off his speed. Rounding the house, they slowed to a walk and Jane stopped him at the porch, sitting fully upright, legs dangling out of their loops down his blowing sides.

 

“Walk him out and clean him up, it’s well past dinnertime.” Lulah said over her shoulder as she led the way into the house.

 

Marc stepped off the porch, arms upraised to aid Jane’s decent, but she just jerked the reins and steered Dandy around him to the back of the property and the barn. Marc turned to Brian, “That’s the second time. What the fuck did I do, anyway?”

 

Brian thought about it for a minute, unsure if he should divulge something Jane might think was none of his business, but not wanting the people around him to be at odds, decided the give him the gist of it. “You’re a man. A big one. The rest of us guys here are all fairly lean and non-threatening, but you have muscles on your muscles and it can be intimidating. Especially after the other day.”

 

“But I didn’t _do_ anything.”

 

Brian stepped on his cigarette butt. “Right now that doesn’t matter.” He headed off to the side leaving Marc feeling guilty for another man’s crimes.

 

* * *

 

 

Brian leaned into the support post on the back porch watching Jane do Dandy’s cool-down. She was fully engrossed in the task, giving him time to think about what he could do to rectify the situation. She seemed okay, but her hesitation around Marc, left him feeling that something still wasn’t resolved. Obviously it was a trust issue, but it stemmed from something else. He didn’t think it was fear of men in general, otherwise it would follow that she would be like that with all of them, himself included. It wasn’t a matter of self-esteem that he could tell, especially given their morning. It nagged at him until she led Dandy to the barn and Brian gave up thinking about it for the time being.

 

When he caught up to her she already had him in his stall and was rubbing him down with the big sheepskin mitten. Brian picked up one for himself and edged his way around to the horse’s other side and started working.

 

“You looked like a tiny little frog holding on for dear life.” he said, “When you came around on that first pass I thought my heart was going to explode until I saw you were happy about it.”

 

They couldn’t see each other with Dandy between them, but he heard her low laughter. “You and me both. There is nothing else like it.”

 

She was undoubtedly still high from her ride, so he said, “Describe it for me.”

 

“It’s exhilarating, fast, and terrifying, all at once. It feels like I imagine flying would. All that power, tearing away at the ground under you. Transporting you to someplace else, someplace… _free._ Its liberating. You can’t think, you can’t really _feel_. All you can do is just _hang on_ , stay in the moment, enjoy it, because you will _never_ feel exactly like that ever again.”

 

“You said you grew up poor. Where did you learn to ride?” he was genuinely curious.

 

“One of my cases was a jockey. He took a bad spill. He had a hard time getting back in the saddle so to speak.”

 

“How did you help him?”

 

“By having him teach me to ride. We talked about things, spent a lot of time together like you and I do, but his passion was always horses and he wanted to be able to ride again. I helped him work through his feelings about his career if he quit, and his fear of being in another accident. Turned out he was more afraid of _not_ being on a horse than with them.”

 

“I know the feeling.”

 

“Do you?”

 

Brian figured now was as good a time as any to tell her about Justin. “My partner, Justin, was a victim of a hate crime.”

 

Jane didn’t say anything so he kept talking.

 

“He was young. Eighteen. Wanted me to go to his prom with him and I turned him down. Why would someone that just turned thirty want to be at a kiddie party, right? Anyway, I showed up after it had started, a kind of surprise, you know, a big Brian Kinney entrance and dragged him to the dancefloor.”

 

“…”

 

“So, we started dancing, and the floor emptied pretty quick. Two _guys_ and all that. It didn’t matter though, not to either of us. Dancing with _him_ , in _that_ moment, _I_ was transported, freed, liberated.” It was the first time he had ever spoken out loud how he had _felt_ that night.

 

“…”

 

“Sunshine. His smile is sunshine, and at the risk of sounding lesbianic, it lights my world. When we danced and he smiled at me, I _knew_ I was in love with him and I would never be the same. I wanted to tell him, I _should_ have told him. But, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“He doesn’t remember. It was just the one dance. After, he walked with me out to the garage. I was in the Jeep and he was going back in to his friend inside when one of his school mates pulled a bat, hit him in the head. Amnesia.”

 

“…”

 

“After he got out of the hospital, his mom wanted me to stay away. She blamed me. I blamed myself. It was horrifying being around him. Seeing how changed he was. How unsure he was. Lost. How much pain he was in. So I stayed away, pushed him away when he sought me out.

 

 It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, staying away.

 

She came to me, his mom, a couple weeks later. She wanted me to take him back and I was simultaneously angry and terrified. She said I was the one he trusted. Can you believe that? I was the reason he was hurt and he trusted me? The world’s a fucked up place sometimes Jane, and I couldn’t say no. I should have told her to get a professional, I should have told her to get a therapist, I should have told her anything, but I couldn’t put his needs before mine, I wanted so badly to see him again. I agreed. I agreed because I felt like I caused it so I should be the one to fix it. I didn’t trust anyone else to see to his best interests like I would. I was more scared of being away from him than I was of dealing with his problems. So I took him.”

 

“Did you? See to his best interests?”

 

“Tried to. Scared shitless the entire time and doing my best not to show it because he needed me to be strong for him.”

 

“He got better?”

 

“For the most part. He still has issues with crowds sometimes, nightmares and motor control in his hand. I think that bothers me more than him most of the time. The constant reminder.”

 

“That you couldn’t prevent it. Fix it. Tell him that you love him, because it might all be ripped away again and you might not survive it a second time.”

 

Brian heaved a sigh. She understood. “Mmmm.”

 

“You’re still together?”

 

Brian chuckled. “Yeah, he’s a persistent little twat.”

 

“Always gets his man, huh?”

 

“Mmmm.” Brian was done on his side of the horse, so he moved around and leaned against the wall of the stall behind Jane as she ran a brush through Dandy’s long mane.

 

“Tell me something you do together that makes you feel good.” Jane said.

 

“We fuck. Like rabbits on steroids. As much as we can, as many different ways as we can.”

 

Jane peeked over her shoulder at him, his sexy sarcastic grin infectious. “Besides that.”

 

“Oh,” Brian said pretending like he hadn’t understood her question, as she started braiding.

 

“Well, he cooks and I eat. We watch movies, though he has terrible taste. He thinks _Armageddon_ is the best dramatic movie ever made and he hates westerns. Together though? That’s a tougher one. We both have busy careers so we don’t spend as much time together as you would think, and when we do we’re…”

 

“Fucking.” Jane cut him off, finishing his sentence for him and tossing him a sly smile.

 

“Well, Lady Jane, you’ve been married a long time, what do you and the little hubby do?” Brian snarked.

 

“Lately, we spend my free time…”

 

“ _Your_ free time?” Brian cut in.

 

“Yes, _mine_. He’s retired, so when I’m home we usually stick a pin in a map and take a vacation, but lately we’ve been taking that time to visit our kids in college and getting the rest ready to go. But we also take classes together, like martial arts, pottery, archery things like that.”

 

“I bet I know which ones you picked.”

 

Pulling a dirty face, she said “You’d be surprised.” She moved to Dandy’s tail, grabbed a handful and braided.

 

“You’re pretty good at that.”

 

“I have a houseful of girls, Brian. It was either learn or shave their heads. And don’t even get me started on lice.”

 

Brian shivered as if the very thought was abhorrent, making her laugh again.

 

“Justin’s mom…?”

 

“Jennifer.” he supplied.

 

“Does she have a good relationship with him?”

 

“The best. She’s come a long way for him, and for herself.”

 

“You admire her.”

 

“Yeah. She got out of a not so great situation with his dad when she could have just let it go. Let Justin go. But she didn’t. She’s a really nice woman.”

 

“So you and she get along too?”

 

“Yeah, we kinda have this thing. We had it before, but since she hooked up with Tucker, the “boy toy”, she has a new appreciation for my obsession with her son.”

 

“How so?”

 

Brian laughed, hard, big rumbles he couldn’t contain as he tried to tell her about it. “See, I’m twelve years older than Justin, and she had some trouble getting over that, but she did pretty fast. Anyway, like two and a half, three years ago she hooks up with Tucker who’s like _half_ her age and Justin, well, he had _a real big problem with that_. See, Tucker’s only _five years_ older than Justin.” Brian was laughing so hard he was holding his side. “You should have _SEEN_ it! The big twat trying to tell his own mother to act her age and grow up. What a fucking little hypocrite. He was mortified! It was so fucking hilarious to watch.”

 

“Of course _you_ didn’t say anything.” Jane was laughing too, picturing it in her head.

 

“Fuck no! I wasn’t _even_ about to get in the middle of that! Fuck, who would be the hypocrite then? Hell no!”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they made it in for dinner, the others had already eaten and left for other parts of the house. Jane pulled their plates from the fridge and stuck one in the microwave as Brian got drinks.

 

“So did you ever tell him?”

 

“What?”

 

“Justin. Did you ever tell him that you love him?”

 

“I told him.” Brian sipped his beer.

 

“You don’t sound happy about it.” Jane pulled the plastic from his plate and set it in front of him, retrieved silverware and put her plate in to heat.

 

“Did you hear about the bombing at Babylon?” he asked.

 

“Ah, a few years ago, right? Pittsburgh?”

 

“It’s my club.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yep. We weren’t together then. I gave Michael the club for a fundraiser. I was on my way to the airport, heard it on the news. I was so fucking scared. Everyone I care about was there that night.”

 

Jane set her plate down taking the seat next to him as he told her about the horror of what he had seen inside. He told her about Michael and Ben and Debbie. He told her about _all_ of them.

 

He didn’t _want_ to keep it inside anymore.

 

The floodgates opened and he held nothing back because he finally came to terms with the fact that he was tired of it all. Tired of carrying the weight of secrets and other people’s problems and being the one they all came to, to fix it, only to have it shoved down his throat that it wasn’t _good_ enough. _He_ wasn’t good enough. Then being forced into roles they wanted him to play to fit their lives. Weary of feeling like he had a responsibility for others’ happiness even to the detriment of his own. Exhausted of _constantly_ reinforcing ancient walls and defenses around himself. Wrung dry of anything left even remotely close to the man he _wanted_ to be by a disease he had no control over. He told her how much he hated it. _Wishing_ it were cancer, or something they could see so they could find it with a machine and suck it from his body and declare him cured. Angry that he couldn’t control it or its effects on those around him. Being trapped in his own brain during an episode, hearing himself say awful things all the while the screaming in his head yelling, “ _I don’t mean it, I don’t mean it, I don’t mean it_.” like standing on a sidewalk, seeing an accident about to happen and being able to do nothing about it.

 

Drinking to oblivion, so the nightmares wouldn’t come and waking up gasping for air as the memories choked him. The fear, that somehow this new threat, would take someone he loved and use them to hurt him because _it would_. The agony…that it could be worse. Someone he cared about could die. _And it would be his fault, again_. He told her how hard it was to look around at his life and everything he had built, all of his accomplishments, and not feel any _pride_ in it anymore.

 

The disease had robbed him of that too, the paranoia, that feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop, because he wasn’t worthy of _any_ of it. Waiting for someone to tell him it was all a big joke and his meaningless existence was the punchline. He told her of the rage that often consumed him when he would think everything was going smoothly and he had finally made it out of the woods, only to have the universe slap him back broadside, with a bat, a disease, a bomb…love.

 

* * *

 

 

Justin had an idea. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that it was a good one. He had flown back to New York, arriving before dawn, and hadn’t slept a wink since the idea popped into his head. He hadn’t even called to tell Daphne about it. He wasn’t even sure it would work. All he knew was, however well-intentioned Everett and Cynthia were, he needed to be with Brian.

Brian was going through something big. Something important. Justin needed to be there so Brian would understand that he wasn’t going through it alone.

He had been through his share of therapy after the bashing and knew first-hand how intrusive and painful it could be. He also knew Brian would balk at it. Brian was not one to share his feelings verbally and deep-rooted feelings that felt like weaknesses were irrevocably off-limits for even his best friends most of the time. Justin knew Brian lived in his head and conventional therapy would probably make him even more pigheaded about divulging anything of importance, and with no one he was close to, there to support him, Justin knew in his gut Brian would end up the worse for it, no matter how committed he had seemed at the hospital. Justin knew in his gut that if he, himself, couldn’t finish the therapy, Brian never would.

 

First step: He called Brian, _knowing_ he wouldn’t answer, and left a voicemail. “Hey, just wanted to let you know I got your email. I miss you too. Later.”

Step two: He texted Emmett. “Not super important, but I need to talk to you. Call me back.- J”

Step three: Make a friend in Security Forces’ electronics department.

 

* * *

 

 

Nick watched from his perch in the adjacent apartment building as Justin had roughly a dozen people in his studio moving things around and setting up what looked like new computer equipment. Big draft tables were brought in along with a light-board and several boxes from a company that specialized in computer animation software. He had been at it for over five hours and there seemed to be no end in sight.

Nick went to take a piss and grab another bottle of water then picked up the binoculars again just in time to see a large projection screen be delivered.

 

* * *

 

 

Cynthia was pissed and barely holding it in check, Sam and Bobby sitting in the chairs in front of Brian’s desk, doing their best to explain that, yes, their only lead was dead, yes, he had been under surveillance, yes, someone in the employ of the police department had fucked up, and yes, they were still doing everything they could to find the person behind the attack.

 

Everett had silently watched it all from the sofa and when her guests were reiterating their commitment, Cynthia shot him a look he immediately understood and he slipped away unnoticed.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t even light out yet when Jane left Brian sleeping in their bed and made her way to the kitchen. She popped a Dew and swallowed her fistful of pills just before Emmett came in wearing a green pair of sleep pants with purple stripes. He started the coffee pot and remembering her not so cheery morning persona kept the conversation to a minimum until she was well into her third can.

 

“I’m surprised you’re up already. When I got up to feed the puppies for the _third_ time last night I heard you two still out here talking.” Emmett said.

 

“Thanks for taking them. He really needed it.”

 

“If I was a smart man, I would have extracted a favor from you like Aunt Lulah did with Brian.” he joked.

 

Jane tilted her head to the side, pretending she was thinking about it. “How about I make breakfast this morning and you just sit there drinking coffee?”

 

Emmett perked up. “Well, ya don’t have to twist _my_ arm, honey.” his enthusiasm evident.

 

Jane started bacon and sausage links on the stove and plugged in the electric griddle on the countertop next to it. Donning the red apron, she mixed up a batch of pancake batter in a big corning-ware bowl.

 

Emmett couldn’t help but ask, “He did good last night? All the talking I mean.”

 

She nodded, pouring batter onto the griddle. “In comparative terms, since I’ve been here, he’s done about six to eight weeks of traditional therapy. So yeah, he did really good.”

 

“That’s our Brian. Once he decides to do something it’s all or nothing.”

 

Bear scratched at the door and Emmett let him in, stopping to top off his coffee as he passed the pot, leaning on the counter facing her. “You know I haven’t seen him drink anything stronger than beer in a while. That’s pretty unusual for him.”

 

Jane flipped the pancakes and checked the meat. “That’s a good thing. With the meds he’s on, it could get really ugly if he did, so don’t let him talk you into it.”

 

“Call me a coward, but I will be leaving _that_ battle for you if you don’t mind.” Emmett reached into the top shelf of the cupboard for a platter and set it next to the griddle as she unloaded the first batch of pancakes.

 

It wasn’t long before the rest of the crew was awake and digging in, sans Brian. When Lara finished, she offered to take over for Jane at the counter, for the still eating men. Jane let her and stood eating a banana and drinking a large glass of milk over the sink.

 

“Don’t want pancakes?” she asked.

 

“Don’t like syrup.” Jane replied, spearing two sausage links straight from the pan with a fork and eating them as Lara pulled off the last of the pancakes and turned all of the equipment off, rinsing dishes for the dishwasher.

 

“You know what time the packages are supposed to arrive today, Emmy Lou?” Brian asked as he pulled up a chair and made a plate after setting the puppies in their basket on the floor near him.

 

“The tracking service said sometime between two and four. Though it may be later. We are not exactly easy to find here.”

 

“Come get me when they do if I’m not back yet.”

 

“You going somewhere?” Marc asked, his brow furrowed in a frown.

 

Brian answered, “Lulah said there’s a hot spring about two miles out. Since I don’t have access to a sauna or bathhouse, I thought a good soak would be just the thing.”

 

Lara was shaking her head, “Brian a two-mile hike there and two more back would be more exercise than you’ve had in almost three weeks. Your injured, I don’t think I’m comfortable with that.”

 

“Who said I was walking, Doc?” he said quizzically. “I thought, if Lady Jane was up for it, we could take the horses.” Brian kept eating like it was nothing out of the ordinary, then turning his head to look at Jane. “Thought we could head out after you show me how to make that noodle dish you were talking about at dinner the other night, the one with the sour cream.”

 

“You cook?” Lara blurted, the doubt evident.

 

“I’m gonna _try_.” he stuck his tongue out at her and crossed his eyes.

 

Emmett put the griddle away and replaced it with the crock pot on the counter.

 

“Lulah? Think you could have the grill going at dinner time? You know _, just in case_.” Marc interjected as he crossed to the back door, making everyone snicker at Brian’s expense.

 

Noah, Lulah, and Lara left to begin the daily chores, leaving Emmett drinking coffee as Jane extracted a four-pound beef shoulder roast from the fridge and a fist sized onion from the pantry. Brian rinsed his empty plate and stood next to her while she showed him how small to mince the onion and mixed two tablespoons each of salt, pepper, and garlic powder into a small bowl then rubbed it into the meat before setting in the cooker. Tossing the onions with the rest of the spices in the bowl, she stirred it until they were coated and sprinkled them on the top. She put the lid on, washed her hands and threw away the empty packaging.

 

“That doesn’t seem too hard.” Brian said.

 

“What’s with your sudden interest in cooking, anyway?” asked Emmett as Jane went about packing them a lunch for their trip.

 

“A conversation Justin had with his mom. She said everyone should be able to cook three dishes really well. I don’t think peanut butter and banana sandwiches qualify. Thought I might surprise Justin by cooking dinner for him one night.”

 

Brian left to change clothes, Emmett following, teasing him about the impending apocalypse.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, baby. How are you doing?” Emmett cooed into his cell phone an hour later.

 

Justin’s smile spread over his face. He hadn’t expected his friend to call him back so soon. “I just wanted to talk to you. Brian doesn’t answer his phone since he left the hospital, so I was hoping you could give me an update on how he’s doing.” Justin let that hang for a couple of seconds before spearing Emmett’s sympathy button with, “I’m just so worried about him, you know? I hardly sleep, I just can’t stop thinking about him.”

 

“Oh, honey. He’s doin’ well. Really well. Jane says his progress is on track and I trust her. She’s seems to be a good fit for him.” Emmett was talking fast, trying to assure Justin that there was no need to worry. “In fact, we all have been seeing a whole new side of him. He actually announced at breakfast that he and Jane were taking the horses to the hot spring. I didn’t even know he could ride. I mean, _I knew he could ride_ , but I didn’t know he could ride.” Emmett laughed at his own joke.

 

“Another reason I called,” Justin broke in, “I was watching the weather channel and there is a pretty big storm coming in to the southeastern seaboard and I thought I would give you guys a heads up. Looks like most of the coast is gonna be under heavy rainfall for the next couple of days.”

 

“Stop being such a worry wart,” Emmett rolled his eyes, “We aren’t anywhere near there. It’s supposed to be sunny here. Sixties and seventies for at least another week.” Emmett assured him.

 

It was a good opening for Justin. “I know I shouldn’t worry and Brian would call me a drama princess for asking,” Justin pitched his voice to pleading, “but could you just step outside, maybe, and take a picture for me, so I can see for myself? I would really appreciate it.” he wheedled.

 

Emmett went onto the back porch and took a shot of the yard with his phone, the upper half of the frame showing a cloudless blue sky, and sent it to Justin. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

 

“Thanks Em, I feel a lot better now, gotta go.” Justin hung up, leaving Emmett staring at his phone.

 

* * *

 

 

Jane was prancing Dandy in elongated ellipses around Brian’s much slower, plodding, sorrel mare. He was absently taking pictures of the trees and other interesting vegetation as he told Jane the story about Chris Hobbes’ trial and his subsequent retribution by gluing the judge’s ass to a toilet. Jane’s sudden trill of laughter sent a small flock of birds into the air and he took a picture as they swirled up and another one as they settled back into the bush they had come from.

 

“What on earth even made you think of that?” she asked when she brought Dandy close to him again.

 

“I pulled a similar stunt in high school. I also built a bomb back then, but Mikey wouldn’t let me use it. He always was a killjoy.”

 

Jane started weaving her mount in and around the tree trunks at the side of the lane they were on, making the filtered light through the leaves play over them. “Were you always a trouble maker?”

 

Brian switched the camera to video, recording her as she and Dandy played in the trees, the horse tossing his head in enjoyment. “Not overtly. I wasn’t a bully or anything.”

 

“Ahhhaa” she said, glancing at him with narrowed eyes, “you were a sneaky bastard.”

 

It was Brian’s turn to laugh. “You could say that.”

 

Jane thought it was good, seeing him open and relaxed. Laughing and fooling around after the emotional turmoil of the night before. “Give me another example,” she said, “give me as many as you can remember.”

 

Brian thought about it as they dismounted near the spring and Jane tied off the horses. Stepping into the trees for a bit of privacy, he relieved himself and changed into a pair of shorts, telling her about Gardner Vance and how he landed the Brown Athletics account and secured a partnership for himself.

 

Jane was already changed and in the water when he emerged and she watched as an expression of bliss slid over his features when he was finally submerged in the hot spring up to his neck. He savored it for a few minutes, then picked up another story. He told her about his pursuit of Stockwell, and the flack heaped on him by family and friends for working for a homophobe.

 

She didn’t interrupt as he closed his eyes and leaned back into the side of the pool as he recounted the arguments he and Justin had had over it and Justin’s late night poster hanging, undermining the campaign. When he got to the part about Jason Kemp’s murder and the fiasco he and Justin set up at the GLC, she made noises of approval and he continued all the way through to his paying for the commercial that finally brought Stockwell down. His subsequent refusal to return to Vanguard and starting his own company.

 

Cynthia’s push for him to steal Remson for Kinnetik had her smiling in admiration.

 

He ran through the tale of his decision to move to New York and his destruction of Antonicci’s construction business, for trying to screw him over, and how he rubbed the man’s nose in it by buying his company, the building of Kinney Track and bringing Everett’s company, Security Forces, into the fold.

 

That led him to tell her how he had watched as Cynthia and Everett danced around the issue of their mutual attraction and how funny he thought it was now that the shoe was on _her_ foot instead of his own and he could tease _her_ about it unmercifully just as she had him over Justin.

 

“It was so obvious how bad they have it for each other, and usually she would just go for it, but she keeps hanging back.” he said.

 

“She’s afraid of the fall.” Jane said remembering Brian’s comment from the other night.

 

Brian nodded his agreement with a heavy sigh.

 

“You love her.”

 

A raised eyebrow this time, but the same nod, the same sigh.

 

“How long have you known her?”

 

Brian shrugged, “Longer than I have known anyone else that is still alive, not blood related to me.”

 

Jane thought that was kind of a weird way to put it and asked him about it.

 

“As far as I am concerned, I don’t have a family, other than my friends. Missy and Tom were like family to me, but they are both dead now. Missy died last year of congestive heart failure, and Tom died a long time ago.”

 

Jane could feel him closing up, not wanting to talk about them, so she pushed a little.

“Tell me.”

 

He was quiet for some time, leaning against the side, eyes closed. Jane made a few laps around the hot spring to give him some space as he ordered his thoughts. She settled in next to him when he started to speak, eyes still closed.

“I met them about six months before I saw Cynthia for the first time through a lower level window in an alley…”

 

* * *

 

 

Noah sat on a fallen log eating a bag of granola just out of their line of sight. He had followed them from about a quarter mile behind, keeping with Emmett’s edict not to be intrusive, and when he had caught up to them, picked a spot where he could keep an eye on them without being observed.

 

He wasn’t really listening to them, but when he heard Cynthia and Everett’s names mentioned together he paid more attention to the discussion. It was no secret his boss was interested in Brian’s partner, so he figured anything he could learn about the woman that might aid Everett’s pursuit would be well received by the man. He moved a little closer as Brian was telling Jane about how he and Cynthia met.

 

“It was late summer. Hotter than hell and our apartment didn’t have air conditioning. I couldn’t sleep. I had a broken arm then too. The cast was making my skin itchy and I couldn’t get comfortable so I dressed and went for a walk. Hell’s Kitchen in the middle of the night. Man, was I stupid.” he said, shaking his head at the thought.

 

“It wasn’t long before some toughs come out of one of the doors and light up cigarettes as I’m walking by. One of them says ‘Hey, looks like we got a pretty boy in the neighborhood.’

 

I ignored him, tried to move past as quickly as possible, but he steps in front of me and grabs my arm, jerks it up behind my back. The pain was unbelievable. I start twisting, trying to get away, as he’s telling his joker friends how he ‘likes ‘em feisty.’” Brian made his voice low and grumbly, imitating his attacker’s.

 

“Now, I may be only ten years old, but I’m not stupid and I know what’s coming. You don’t live in the ghetto most of your life and _not know_.”

 

“He raped you.” Noah heard Jane say.

 

“Right there on the sidewalk, his joker friends cheering him on the whole time.” Brian said. “Left me hanging over the railing like a side of beef with my pants around my ankles and the only thought in my head screaming, ‘run!run!run!’

 

I did run.

 

I didn’t make it far. Just around the side of the building, into the alley before I passed out. Don’t know how long I was out for, I just know it was light when I woke and there she was. Staring at me from the other side of that window. Looking up at me, in the alley, with big blue eyes. She was barely old enough to walk, filthy, emaciated, staring at me like I was the most precious thing she had ever seen. I tried to open the window until I saw the door open behind her and I moved off to the side. When I looked back in, it dawned on me where she was and who was keeping her like that.”

 

Jane said, “The toughs.”

 

“Mmmm.”

 

Noah felt his stomach flip over and bile rose in his throat.

 

Brian continued, “I left her there. I couldn’t get her out of that closet or out of my head for days and knew I had to do something about her, had to get her away from them. If they would do _that_ to me, they would do it to her, and I couldn’t live with it. So I went back and struck a deal so I could keep an eye on her and figure a way to get her out from the inside.”

 

“You offered yourself…didn’t you…for access to her.” Jane said, knowing she was right.

 

Brian’s face twisted in on itself as Noah watched him struggle with the memory.

 

“How long before you got her out?” she asked.

 

Brian heaved out a big breath, letting the pain go with it. “Four months.”

 

Then his eyes glittered with the satisfaction of remembered revenge. “Tied the fucker’s hand to the radiator, stole their pile of cash, and burned the place to the _fucking_ _ground_.”

 

Noah saw Jane move to face Brian in the water, “You did good.” she said, repeating it when he seemed to shy from the praise. Whether she said it because he had done something so valorous at so young an age, or because he had finally talked about it, Noah wasn’t sure.

And when he saw Jane pull Brian into a comforting hug, and his arms wrap around her haltingly, then tightly, it really didn’t matter.

 

Moving away from them, back into the trees, he couldn’t help but say it himself. “She’s right. You _did_ do good.”

 

* * *

 

 

Justin unfurled a big map of the United States on one of the new draft boards he had had brought into the studio. He opened a sharpie marker and drew a long line from left to right, bisecting the country into upper and lower halves.

 

Consulting his notes from the weather channel he drew another line from the original, down to the Gulf and put a big X on the right, through a good portion of the southeast. Repeating the process on the west coast, he was left with eastern Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi. He knew Brian had contacts all over the country and Everett’s were worldwide, but after thinking about it for a while, came to the conclusion that they had to be in Mississippi. If for no other reason than the fact Emmett had travelled with them.

 

Justin went to his computer, pulling up different sites about the state. Its largest city was Jackson, and when he clicked on it, enlarged the map the site offered and looked at the surrounding areas. Ten seconds in, he found Hazelhurst.

 

_Definitely Mississippi._

 

The surrounding areas were rural, a good portion of the state covered by National Parks and natural landscapes. He spent several more hours digging through the net, trying to narrow his search area to a more manageable size.

 

* * *

 

 

Brian sat on the dry grass of the lane next to Jane eating the last of his sandwich while she crunched into another apple. He felt better having told her about his and Cynthia’s history. He wanted to move past the pain of his violation, telling her about it had eased it somewhat, but he didn’t want it hanging over his head for the rest of the afternoon. He wanted something light to dispel the darkness.

 

“Tell me a funny story.” he said, nudging his arm into hers.

 

“What kind of story?”

 

“I don’t know, you pick.”

 

She thought about it for a few seconds and her eyes twinkled merrily. “Well, you might not think it’s funny, but here it goes. My youngest son has a genius level IQ and does really well with literal and mechanical things. Things that have known quantities and absolutes. Anyway, he doesn’t do really well with things in the abstract like feelings or innuendo, jokes, things of that nature.

 

My husband is a fanatic about clean socks. ‘Either wear clean ones or none at all’, a leftover from combat you could say. Anyway, my husband is getting our eight-year-old up for school one morning and when he proves difficult getting out of bed, my husband decides he will dress his son himself. So he pulls off pajamas, including socks and gets him dressed all while our son is playing possum.

The rest of us are having breakfast when he comes storming down the steps, tears streaming, and his dad trailing after him not knowing what the fuck is going on. ‘Mom!’ he wails, ‘Dad took my socks, he can’t have my socks!’ so I look at my husband and say ‘did you take his socks? Husband shrugs, ‘Of course I took his socks, he had to get ready for school. He needed clean ones.’

 

By this time, all the other kids want to know what’s going on, so without thinking I say, ‘It’s a father and son bad sock morning.’ to which they start chuckling. Before too long, the older kids start ribbing them, making my poor sweet baby furious, then he gets this look on his face like he’s gonna explode and yells, ‘Mind your own _socking_ business!’

 

Jane was laughing so hard she could barely talk and Brian was right there with her.

 

“We were floored, silence everywhere, until it sinks in that the literal little boy made a pun. A very good one, and understood what it meant. I was so proud of him! Of course the rest of them started in with their own, and he kept up with them, laughing his head off the whole time. I let him stay home from school that day, just because I couldn’t stop hugging him.”

 

Brian smiled at her. It _was_ a funny story and if it had been him and Gus he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t be proud too.

 

“You probably had to be there, but that’s the best you’re gonna get from me today.”

 

She dug into the saddle bag and extracted several large carrots, tossing them into Brian’s lap followed by a couple more apples. After picking up their lunch stuff and packing it away she said, “Bring those and come with me.”, as she stood up.

 

It was Brian’s sexy purr that halted her, making her turn around to look at him, “If you _insist_ , Lady Jane.”

 

She was caught, dumbfounded, by the blatant sexual overtone of his words and the way they rolled through her, settling in her belly and other more private places.

 

Until she focused on his eyes. They were laughing at her. He gestured to the ground in front of his legs and she saw he had placed the apples side by side and selected the largest carrot, three inches around at the base and ten inches long, placing it between and sticking out from, the apples. An obvious fruit/vegetable cock, and they burst out laughing again.

 

When she could breathe, she tugged his arm until he stood and helped gather them up, “They are not for _you_ , they are for the horses.” she said.

 

* * *

 

 

By three thirty they were heading back and Brian’s radio squawked. It was Emmett, telling him the packages had arrived and Jane saw his face light up like a kid at Christmas.

 

“What’s in the boxes?”

 

“A surprise.” he said, noncommittally.

 

“For who?”

 

“You’ll see.”

 

“Does it have anything to do with the fact there is a new lock on my door?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So you just shred it up like this,” Jane used two sets of tongs to pull the tender meat apart until it was all shredded in the crock pot. “Then you add a small can of beef stock and two family sized cans of Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup and stir.” She followed her own instructions explaining how important it was to use no-yolk egg noodles as she drained the boiling water from them into the sink. She swirled the noodles in the bottom of the big canning pot until they stopped steaming then dumped them into the meat mixture and stirred in a tub of sour cream.

 

Emmett had made a big salad of field greens and warmed up some fresh peas. Jane turned the knob on the crock pot to low and scooped out enough to fill a large mixing bowl, carrying it to the table where everyone sat for dinner.

 

Emmett was the first to try it and his hum of approval had Marc digging in. Jane watched as they all began eating with more gusto, praising her concoction and going back for seconds. She refilled the serving bowl, which was passed around with fervor, Brian and Marc helping themselves to thirds while she ate her salad.

 

Conversation was nearly non-existent as the food dwindled and Marc used the crusty heel from the bread loaf to gather the creamy remains of the noodle dish from the serving bowl. Lulah stared at him and he had the good grace to blush at his bad manners, but he didn’t stop either. Brian’s snicker had them all sitting back in their chairs in embarrassment, rubbing full bellies and needing naps.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brian suggested they all go into the great room to watch Cheaper by the Dozen which he found out was actually named _Yours, Mine and Ours_ when Lara handed him the case and gave him shit about how hard it had been to find looking for the wrong title.

 

When it got to the scene where Lucille Ball’s character became increasingly drunk, going from laughter to tears and back again, her fake eyelashes falling off, Brian tugged Emmett into the hallway and discussed in low tones what he wanted him to do when the movie was over. Emmett agreed heartily, and when they sat back down to finish the movie, Jane squeezed in between them on the couch with the bowl of popcorn. She could feel their excitement rising the closer they got to the end of the movie. By the time it was over Brian was practically squirming, but she didn’t have time to think about it when Emmett grabbed her hand and pulled her up the steps to their room.

 

Brian emptied several large shopping bags onto the bed, spilling makeup and hair color sprays then patting the mattress for Jane to sit. Emmett closed the door and joined them as Brian opened plastic cellophane wrappers with his teeth. He appeared almost desperate, so she and Emmett helped until everything was open.

 

“What are we doing?” she asked, a little bit timid in the face of their exuberance.

 

Emmett answered, “Well I wouldn’t call it a makeover, since you really don’t need one, but I guess we could call it a…transformation.”

 

“This is all for me?” Jane sounded unsure and Brian rushed to assure her. “It’s good, Jane, I promise.”

 

Jane contemplated him, the earnest look, the sincere words, and decided to trust whatever was going on.

 

The moment she capitulated Brian began with his instructions and Emmett did his best to follow them. He lined Jane’s eyes with a wide black pencil and applied a dark metallic green eyeshadow all the way to her brows and down under her eyes to just above the crest of her cheekbone, feathering it all the way out past her temples and into her hairline. He then used the gold, silver and bronze on upper and lower lids, again blending out around the eye making it look like a sort of mask, but feminine and beautiful. He gave her lashes two coats of mascara and her lips the deep glossy red lipstick. Adding a rouge, under the cheekbone, made the cheekbones themselves stand out in sharp relief and her lips seem fuller. Brian affixed the delicate swirling curves of the earcuff to the shell of her right ear where it spanned from the lobe to the arch at the top, in gleaming, twisting, silver strands.

 

He used the metallic bronze hairspray to spritz a faint line through the hair at her temples, back around her head and meet up in the same spot on the other side. Emmett got it to blend seamlessly with the shadows around her eyes continuing the illusion of a mask. Brian went to the bathroom, grabbed his blow dry lotion and hairdryer spending the next several minutes alternately spraying and drying the top of her very short hair into random tufts that stuck up in differing directions.

 

When the men both looked at each other and said “The silver.” at the same time, Jane was on pins and needles. She had never had this much attention paid to her hair, as short as it was and was dying to see what they had done.

 

It was Emmett’s turn to go into the bathroom and he came back with Brian’s really expensive Edwin Jagger, badger hair, shaving brush, which Brian snatched from him, ignoring its cost, sprayed it with the metallic silver spray and used it to quickly transfer the color to the tips of the spikes he had created. They fussed and they mussed, and they talked to each other in short little spats that she had no idea what they meant, like she wasn’t even there and she blew her lid.

 

“Enough!” she yelled, making them freeze in place, and eye here warily. “I’m not some real life doll! What the fuck is going on here?”

 

Brian gave her a good once over, glanced at Emmett who gave him an approving nod, and went to the door of Jane’s former room, holding out a hand for her to join him. Jane flounced from the bed and stalked to Brian, about to let him have it again, when he fished the key from the pocket of his jeans and handed it to her without a word.

 

She bit her tongue, but snatched up the key, used it on the deadbolt, and flung the door open. She made it three steps into the room when Brian saw the moment she laid eyes on the outfitted mannequin. She went dead still mid-stride, her foot slowly lowering to the floor as she turned to face it more fully. He and Emmett stood in the doorway, waiting for her to say something. Brian was starting to worry that he had really fucked up, when her shoulders slumped and she wrapped her arms at her waist. He could only see her from the back, and the indications she was giving had Emmett frowning next to him. Brian stepped into the room, coming up behind her and wrapping his arm around her waist over hers and leaning down, pressed his head next her cheek.

 

She turned her head to look him in the face, as tears streaked her cheeks, mouth quivering. Brian was worrying his lips with his teeth, a timorous, hesitation in his gaze, when she realized he thought she didn’t like his gift.

 

“You did this?...For me?”

 

He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he hugged her tighter, trying to tell her he had meant well, and nodded once.

 

The smile she let loose lit up the room when she declared, “You made me into a Superhero!”

 

* * *

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day

Chapter 19

 

 

Would you like to have an adventure now, or would you like to have your tea first?

 

 

J.M. Barrie

 

 

 

 

Emmett had removed the full length mirror from the bathroom and covered the one over the sink so Jane could not see herself until Brian wanted her to. She was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic as Lara and Emmett helped her get dressed in the confines of the bathroom but did her best not to show it, given her excitement to see how the outfit looked on her.

 

As Emmett hooked the wide bands on the back of the bodice, she reflected on what Brian’s gift had meant to him. It was, for him, a way for him to provide an avenue of empowerment after what he could only assume was a residual feeling of weakness, on her part, after her episode. He had no way of knowing, at the time he did it, that she had had them before and was well practiced at recovering from them.

 

Still, the gesture was there, and she knew his project had just as much to do with him as he felt it did with her. Brian had obviously felt weakened and powerless from her ordeal and his gift was a way for him to take back control and empower himself as well.

 

Emmett was chattering away, Jane only half listening, when Lara stood up from fastening Jane’s boots. She held out the long black, shiny, coat and Jane slipped her arms into the sleeves admiring the cut of the patent leather. Lara fastened the lapels and pronounced Jane ready for her close up.

 

She was told to stay where she was until they had everything ready for her big entrance and slipped out the door. What she could see, looking down at herself was impressive and when she twisted and moved about, there was an alarming ease of movement that leather usually didn’t have, explained by the cleverly placed, wide strip of elastic, that ran the length of the sleeve next to her torso.

 

She especially liked the boots. Being barely over five feet tall, when she chose to wear heels she had a penchant for ankle breakers. The higher the better. The boots she had on were a two-inch platform sole, making the ice pick heels top out at eight inches. They were plain black patent leather with a rounded square toe and rose to the widest part of her calf. What was really cool about them, was the back half of the leg. From just above the ankle to the top, was not leather, but a series of three-inch-wide, tight knit elastic bands affixed with bright chrome hooks on one side, linked through matching metal grommets on the other, securing them to her legs. All in all, they were comfortable and moved easily as she flexed and bent her legs.

 

She didn’t hear Lulah’s knock, so she was a little startled when the woman stuck her head in the door. “They are all ready for you, dear.”

 

“Oh. Okay, just give me a minute.”

 

Lulah left and Jane took a deep steadying breath as she hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed after all their hard work.

 

When she stepped from the bathroom into the workroom, she looked at all of them arranged around the periphery, and tried to gauge their reactions. She saw Emmett and Lara first, seated on the bed, with Lara holding the camera, obviously filming her. Emmett’s hands flew up to his cheeks, a broad grin on his face, even though he looked like he could cry. Lara was smiling and nodding her head in approval. She took another tentative step, watching as Noah pushed off the wall behind Lulah and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, a surprised gleam in his eye, as she patted his hand in acknowledgement. Marc turned towards her from the desk, went completely still, no emotion showing on his face but for one raised brow.

 

Moving to the center of the room, she finally turned to Brian, hoping she would live up to his expectations. He came to her, circling her body, a finger pressed to his lips as he checked her out from all sides before stopping in front of her, effectively shutting out everyone else in the room. He was so close, that even with the extra height of the shoes, she still had to tilt her head back to make eye contact. A look passed between them, as he snaked his arm around her waist, gently tugging them chest to chest, tilting his head so he could brush his lips over hers, watching her as he did it.

 

Jane watched him back, kissed him back, knowing it wasn’t sexual. It was Brian’s way of communicating that she wore the outfit well. His eyes were telling her _he understood_ that _she knew_ it was as much for _him_ as her. They spoke of appreciation and admiration for what she had, and would continue to do for him. They spoke of a shared sadness and shone with thanks for having someone to share it _with_. He touched his forehead to hers and after a few seconds that seemed like a lifetime, he pulled away.

 

Marc cleared his throat, gesturing with a hand, asking Jane if he could come closer. She squared her shoulders and gave him her full attention as he stopped a couple feet away and opened his palm.

 

“We thought you might like to have these.” He seemed a bit flustered, and when she looked into his hand, she saw two rectangular pins. They were military unit-pins and she recognized them as being Navy Special Forces. “Noah and I each have one, and we would like it if you would wear them.” Marc flushed a little at the admission but pushed his hand a little closer for Jane to take them. She picked one up and examined its flat silver surface and its inscription.

 

“ _Adversa in pace_.” Jane read the words with their simple solid outline around the edge of the pin.

“It’s Latin for…” Marc was saying, but Jane smiled and finished for him. “ _Through adversity, Peace_.” she said. He nodded at her accurate translation.

 

“It has always been one of my most favorite sayings.” Jane handed him back the pin. “Will you do the honors, Commander?”

 

Marc swelled with pride, stepping closer so he could affix a pin to each side of the standing, mock collar of her coat. When he was done, he stepped back and took in the full view. “You look…fiercely magnificent.” Then he left, embarrassed by his emotional display, causing a low chuckle to run around the occupants of the room.

 

Lara put down the camera as Emmett bussed each of Jane’s cheeks, still unable to speak he was so happy, leading the others away.

 

That seemed to spark a fire in Brian since he picked up the camera and began snapping photos of her from every angle, giving her instructions on how to pose and what expressions to use, every once in a while moving various body parts until the look he wanted was achieved, all the while talking about Justin and Michael, and their comic book ‘Rage’.

 

Jane allowed him his creativity for over two hours before she could no longer stifle her curiosity or her yawns. Brian finally relented and let her go take a shower and change into her pajamas, while he transferred the digital material to his laptop, so long as she promised not to look at herself in the mirror while she was gone. Jane agreed on the condition that he had something for her to eat when she got back.

 

He used the time to make a plate of Pringles and spray cheese “sandwiches”, and photo-shop the backgrounds in most of the stills he had taken and arranging them into a slide show. He wrote out some notes for ideas he wanted to run by Jane and when he heard the shower flip off, he went to the new refrigerator in the room and retrieved a Mountain Dew.

 

He was just lighting a cigarette and leaning back in the desk chair when she came back from across the hall and sat next to him in the other new chair.

 

“What’s this?” she asked, spying the plate.

 

“It’s my equivalent of graham cracker cookies.”

 

She picked one up, bit into and chewed. “Not bad.” She ate a few more before she couldn’t contain herself anymore. “All right! You win. Show me, show me, show me!”

 

She was bouncing in her seat, an exaggerated plea on her face and Brian imagined her, for a moment, as a child begging for an early Christmas present.

 

He picked up the camera and filmed her. “Press enter.” he said, sitting to the side so he had a good angle of her face as she watched the presentation.

 

Jane took in everything with eager eyes and when the last slide faded she hit the start button again without ever looking at Brian. She barely recognized herself in the photos, the makeup transforming her features into something else. The lack of color other than black on the outfit drew the viewer’s eye to her face and hair with its bold use of metallic tones. The “mask” sharpened her cheekbones and made her eyes seem larger and piercing. Her hair was windswept and tipped with silver, hinting at other than earthly origins.

 

The patent leather coat, with its short, open, mock collar, lent length to her throat and fastened into a point at the base with the same hardware as her boots, before cutting away to the armpit and coming back to another point just below her bust-line and repeating the fixture, exposing the brocade of the bodice underneath. The lower flaps of the coat each had another hook which could attach to the companion grommets on the back of the coat’s waist, pulling them back out of the way and freeing her legs from the long confines, revealing the lining in the same fabric as the bodice, and giving her access to her utility belt. The sleeves ended in loops that wrapped the base of her fingers and thumbs giving the illusion of gloves while leaving her hands mostly bare. The shoulders were fitted and crisp, and with the metal fasteners and the agent’s gifts, it had a decidedly military feel, but maintained its own futuristic flavor.

 

When the computer started playing the slides without the coat, Jane leaned in.

 

The brocade bodice, modelled after an old fashioned corset, but lacking the hard boning, pushed her breasts into a pleasing, yet modest décolletage, hugging her like a second skin all the way to her hips, emphasizing their flair while making her waist appear miraculously smaller. Jane appreciated that and attributed it, again, to the very clever use of the wide elastic bands on the back. The brocade fabric ended on the sides of her torso. The elastic had been sewn in strips that lay right next to each other so they stacked up the back of the bodice, each with its own fastener. The hardware matching that on her coat and boots. Whoever was responsible for that, had made sure that the bands were size perfect and kept everything snug and in place.

 

When standing upright, the bands appeared one solid piece with the hardware mimicking her spine. When she moved, magic happened. The elastic would move with her and in doing so, would separate from each other and reveal tantalizing bits of skin without ever revealing her scars. The pants were matte black leather in front and black satin spandex in back, giving her freedom of motion and support. Everything fit like a second skin and the utility belt that fastened around the waist and thigh, alluded to protective services, and carried her knife.

 

The whole ensemble was contemporary with its crisp lines and sharp geometry in monochromatic black accented with the chrome hardware. It was feminine too, its hint of Antebellum Lady curves accented nicely with the brief flashes of flesh that invoked the idea of sexy and not being racy or slutty.

 

Brian turned off the camera when Jane hit play a third time and started talking to her about his ideas. He opened a bag of Doritos, sharing them with her. The more Jane listened, the more excited she became and it wasn’t long before she was adding her own input, sending Brian into excited note taking. They bounced ideas back and forth, finally calling it quits as dawn peeked over the horizon.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next few days went by in a flurry of activity. Brian designed two more, much simpler, outfits for Jane keeping to the use of the elastic and hardware with the black, maintaining the theme. Lulah swapped out the old, brown leather on one of Dandy’s halter and bridles for black leather and small link chain. Brian was adamant that Jane continue to ride him without a saddle, so she and Lulah made a matching strap for her feet similar to the rope she had originally used.

 

Brian filmed her incessantly. He staged mock battles with the agents, using the corn syrup and food coloring to imitate blood and the spray bottle to apply it liberally. Jane’s limited martial arts training came in handy and the battles soon became complex scenes they all thoroughly enjoyed for the workout and the fun.

 

They all settled into a routine, everyone did chores first thing in the morning, Brian included, then after lunch, they would work on whatever Brian had cooked up for them, and in the evenings he and Jane would hole up in their room eating junk food and talking. Brian found Jane to be insightful and easy to confide in.

 

By the fourth day, he became increasingly frustrated that he couldn’t get the close up shots of Jane, as she raced Dandy, that he wanted. Marc suggested that they take the camper shell off the truck and film from the back as they drove next to horse and rider.

 

Brian pounced on the idea, not once making a crack about the “banana-mobile” and paced the yard waiting for the guys to get the shell removed.

 

“Don’t even _think_ you are getting in the back of that thing to film.” Lara said from the porch.

 

Brian lit a cigarette, puffing hastily. “How else am I supposed to get the shot?”

 

“It is too dangerous. Get someone else to do it.”

 

“They don’t know what I’m looking for or how to frame it. It has to be me.” he replied testily.

 

Lara moved off into the lodge, only to return a few minutes later with all the extra yardage of parachute cord. She had only been able to buy it in a fifty-yard hank, so there was still plenty of it left.

 

Brian said nothing when she stomped to him, looping the cording through his legs, around his hips and up the back of his torso and under the armpits, over the shoulders, gathering the ends behind his back, making a harness. When he climbed into the back of the truck she secured him to the cargo hooks on the back of the cab and crouched behind him with her arms wrapped tightly around his thighs, praying, to whatever deity watched over idiots with a death wish.

 

Noah climbed in with them and pounded a fist on the roof of the cab, letting Marc know they were ready. Brian signaled to Jane and she started Dandy into a trot, checking to see if he would have a problem being near a moving vehicle. He didn’t. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the competition, pulling at the reins to go faster and Jane let him have his head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Justin was watching Coby fiddle with his computer, trying to fix what Justin had purposely screwed up to get him in his studio, all the while complaining about his girlfriend. Justin had met Coby while he was setting up the new computer equipment in his studio almost a week before. He had cultivated a friendship with the younger man in order to aid his quest to find Brian. Coby worked for Everett in the IT department and Justin was working up to making his request by listening to his troubles over the last few days. When Coby lamented that he wished there was some way to make up with his girlfriend, Justin saw his chance.

 

“What if I could help you?” he said.

 

“Huh?”

 

“We could trade surprises.”

 

Coby turned his direction, in interest.

 

Justin said, “I have a friend who lives in another state that has a birthday coming up and I wanted to surprise him with a gift.” Justin wandered over to the table Coby was sitting at. “I lost his address and if I call him about it, he will get the hint and my surprise will be for shit.” Justin pretended supreme embarrassment and looked away guiltily. “If you gave me a picture of your girlfriend, I could replicate it on canvas for you and you would have a really nice gift to use to make up with her.”

 

Coby’s eyes narrowed. “What do I have to do?”

 

Justin pulled out his phone, “You could use your equipment and tell me where this call and photo came from, so I can send my friend his gift and still keep it a surprise.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian came down the steps announcing his need to shop somewhere other than the local supercenter. When Lulah suggested the mall in Jackson, he figured it was the best he was going to get in rural Mississippi and they made plans to go, after the chores were finished, to grab lunch in town and hit up the mall further down the highway.

 

Jane wanted to drive the big yellow beast and since Brian wanted to continue sharing his childhood with her, elected to ride in it, leaving Marc and Noah to follow in the Suburban, giving them privacy.

 

They had lunch in a roadside café boasting the best ribs in the state and Jane liked them so much, she ordered a second entrée to-go, saying they would make a good midnight snack. Brian had to admit they _were_ good and was still a bit shocked he had eaten everything on his plate and also what was left on Jane’s.

 

Thirty minutes after getting back on the highway, she took the exit for the mall and waited at the light at the end of the exit ramp. Brian stopped talking when he saw her eyes latch onto something on the far left side of the intersection. Following her gaze, he saw a scrawny older man on the median holding a sign that said: _Veteran. Will work for food_.

 

He didn’t have much time to think about it, when the light changed, and Jane eased the truck into the intersection and turned, pulling to a stop next to the median and parked, hitting the button for the hazard lights. Marc followed suit in the Suburban, effectively blocking two lanes of traffic.

 

Jane didn’t say anything, digging in her purse for her wallet and snagging her takeout bag from the backseat. Getting out and closing the door behind her left Brian in silence, unable to hear what she was saying to the man. He looked out the back window, seeing Marc step out and lean on the hood of the Suburban, keeping an eye on the proceedings.

 

Brian turned back to Jane and the stranger. She was showing him something in her wallet and handing him the food. Brian saw his mouth move in thanks as Jane extracted a business card and handed it to him. The man tucked it into the inside pocket of his tattered camouflage jacket and turned to look where she was now pointing across the intersection, to the ramp leading back to the highway. The stranger shook his head for a few seconds, said something Brian couldn’t make out and watched in astonishment when Jane hugged the filthy man as he started to cry.

 

Horns started honking at the delay, but Jane didn’t let go until the man had collected himself and pulled away from her. They had another short conversation and Jane climbed back into the truck, put on her seatbelt, and moved back into traffic.

 

She said nothing about the exchange and Brian didn’t press her. When she pulled into a Walgreen’s a couple of blocks away, she radioed Marc that she wouldn’t be long and hopped out of the vehicle, disappearing into the store.

 

Brian got out and followed her from a distance, watching as she pushed a cart through the aisles, selecting toiletries, bottled water, and shelled nuts. She added a package of socks, underwear and razors, a bar of soap and a plastic travel case for it along with some washcloths and baby wipes. Passing the electronics counter, she selected a pay as you go cell phone and asked the teenager behind the counter to activate it for her as she continued to shop, selecting a card from the display for a year’s worth of service and handing it over with her credit card. After she paid and left him working on it, she went back to the aisles, picking up a dark blue backpack from the school supplies section and spending several minutes choosing prepaid gift cards for various restaurants in the area and a visa gift card.

 

Going back to the teenager, she collected the phone, made sure it was activated and moved to the front of the store to check out. Brian moved in behind her and when she turned, said “I’m out of cigarettes. Thought I would get some since we were already here.”

 

When it was her turn, he helped her load the stuff on the counter and instead of bagging it, she had the cashier put everything in the backpack. The cashier asked Jane how much she wanted to make the visa gift card for and Jane told her a thousand dollars without batting an eyelash. She swiped her card and after making sure the backpack was fully zippered and secured, she put her cart away, standing to the side and waiting for Brian to finish his purchase.

 

When he had his bag in hand, she silently led the way back outside and they continued on to the mall. Brian wanted to browse, but after forty minutes of Jane distractedly checking her watch every few minutes, he gave in and quickly grabbed a couple pairs of jeans, two casual button down shirts, two long sleeved Henley’s and a new pair of work boots with matching gloves.

 

Noah carried his bags and once they were back in the vehicles, Jane wasted no time getting them back to the intersection. She was glancing around, a little distressed, until the man noticed the yellow truck and stepped out from behind the support pillar for the overpass. She repeated her parking maneuver, Marc following suit, and got out toting the backpack. She was talking to the man again, showing him the phone, and Brian really wanted to hear what she was saying. She was gesticulating with her hands, emphasizing her words, while the veteran shook his head with lessening degrees of fervor. He wanted to roll down his window and listen but didn’t because the idea of eavesdropping on what was apparently a private and passionate exchange left him feeling too intrusive.

 

When the man ducked his head and Jane briefly hugged him again, Brian knew Jane had won him over. Taking his elbow, she shouldered the new backpack and his battered, drab olive duffle and led him to the truck, opening the back door so he could climb in. She rounded the vehicle, opening the opposite back door and handed in his bags, which he immediately pulled close to him on the seat.

 

The smell was horrendous and Brian cracked his window for some fresh air.

 

Jane put the truck in gear and made the turn getting them back on the highway. She was focused on the road when she said, “Brian, this is Staff Sergeant Granvil. Staff Sergeant, this is Mr. Brian Kinney.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Sir.” came the scratchy voice from the back seat.

 

“Pleasure.” Brian said, doing his best to breathe through his mouth.

 

Jane glanced in the rearview mirror, saying “I see from your unit patch, you were part of the K-9 troops in Vietnam. How long did you serve?”

 

“Did four tours in Nam, coupla more after that in other places ‘til they disbanded us.”

 

Jane hummed her understanding. “Why don’t you go ahead and eat, it will be about forty minutes until we get home, then we will get you settled in.”

 

Brian’s radio squawked, making their passenger startle, and he turned it off, sending Marc a message for silence by doing so.

 

When they made the turnoff for the lodge, Brian nudged the man to wake him up, making his eyes dart around quickly until he remembered where he was. Jane parked and opened his door, carrying his bags again, as she gently steered him by the elbow into the house and one of the smaller, empty bedrooms on the first floor. She was gone for several minutes, the rest of them milling in the living room, then she came back out, dug through Brian’s shopping bags and disappeared again with one of his new outfits, including the boots after checking the size.

 

Lulah and Emmett came in from the kitchen, wanting to know what was going on. Noah explained as much as he knew and Jane came back telling no one in particular that their guest was in the shower.

 

“I will set another place at the table.” Lulah said, and as she turned back to the kitchen, Brian saw the moment Jane realized what she had done by bringing a stranger into their midst.

 

Her face went ashen as she tried to apologize, “Brian, I’m sor…”

 

“ _DON’T!”_ Brian barked, startling everyone. He marched over to her, grabbing her chin to make her look at him. “Don’t _ever_ apologize. Not to _me_ , or anyone else, for doing something, _you_ **_know_** _, is_ _right_. Understand?”

 

Jane stared at him, nodding, before leaving to check on Staff Sergeant Granvil.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I don’t think Brian or Everett would like us using their equipment for something so trivial, so I would like to keep it between us, if you don’t mind. I feel kinda silly about the whole thing and Brian would never let me live it down, so I’d like to keep it quiet.”

 

Justin was laying it on thick and Coby was nodding along, carrying his new painting of his girlfriend, grateful for a way to get back into her good graces. “It’s no problem. Everett is already gone, it’s just me and one other guy tonight and he’s on rounds. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so.”

 

Justin followed him into Everett’s command center and watched as Coby plugged Justin’s phone into a specialized dock, then scrolled through the information that appeared on the computer screen. When he signaled for Justin to pick the call he wanted traced, Justin stuck a finger on the screen and Coby highlighted it with the cursor and inputted a search command.

 

A bunch of stuff Justin didn’t know anything about played over the screen until twenty minutes later it stopped and Coby wrote down the address that had been displayed. Justin grinned as he picked up the sticky note and his phone, thanking Coby and wishing him luck with the girlfriend before leaving.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner was a subdued affair in deference to their timid guest. Jane had spent some time cutting his hair and he now sat freshly shaven, in new clothes, next to her at the table, eating as if it were the last meal he would ever have.

 

Brian remembered the sharp pangs of hunger from his childhood and kept refilling his plate and passing the Sergeant the serving bowls after, so the man wouldn’t feel embarrassed about the amount of food he was consuming since Brian was doing it too. Marc picked up on it and did the same, Emmett smiling at the silent closing of ranks around their newest member.

 

When Lulah mentioned to Brian that he was back on puppy duty, Granvil perked up, asking about the dogs.

 

“I could help you with that, Ma’am, in payment for your hospitality.”

 

Lulah sent Jane a look, seeing in the younger woman’s face, that that had been exactly what she had been hoping for. Lulah gave the Sergeant a terse nod, accepting his help, “Let’s go then. It’s almost dark, and the horses need to be bedded too.”

 

Granvil stood, setting his napkin on the table, addressing the room at large, “Ladies. Sirs.” by way of excusing himself. He grabbed two more dinner rolls, one for each hand, and hurried after Lulah as she left the house.

 

Jane started clearing the table and everyone took her cue to stand up and help put the kitchen back in order.

 

Later, Jane was curled against Brian’s side, about to fall asleep, when she thought she heard him say, “You did good.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Staff Sergeant proved himself a hard worker over the next days, jumping in to help wherever it was needed, whether it was in the kitchen or the barn didn’t matter. He worked just as hard as everyone else, no complaints, keeping mostly to himself.

 

He was working with Bear, late in the afternoon, just outside the open barn doors when Marc approached Jane while she was mucking the sorrel’s stall. Brian was next door in Dandy’s, doing the same, one-handed, when he heard Marc speak.

 

“Why’d you do it?” He must have gestured in Granvil’s direction because Jane knew what he was talking about.

 

She said, “If _not_ me, then who?”

 

Brian stuck his head out of the stall to see Marc heading away when Jane’s voice came again. “Superpowers aren’t worth shit, unless you use them.”

 

When Marc turned to reply, he saw Brian eavesdropping, shot him a smile and sauntered off to get to know the Sergeant a little better.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

To:SunnyBoy@Trix4Kix.net

From:ThunderStud@Trix4Kix.net

 

 

Attachments: 3

 

 

I have a new Superhero for you to play with. Attached is a set of stills, videos, and a word document of possible storylines.

 

Please play nice. I care about her.

 

 

I Love You.

 

 

Later

 

 

 

 

 

 

Justin stared, slack-jawed at Brian’s email. Not only had he declared his love, but he admitted to caring about someone else too. _A woman_. Other than Cynthia, (whom he had known forever), Debbie, (his surrogate mother), and Lindsay, (the mother of his child), Justin had never known Brian to ever care about a woman. In fact, he had never heard Brian declare _positive_ feelings, even about the _existing_ women in his life, let alone a new one.

 

Clicking on the attachments to open them, Justin selected the storylines first. After reading them twice he opened the slide show. He watched it play through, Brian’s capture of stills that appeared to move, almost mesmerizing. He had expected some crude drawings but the photos of a real human woman brought Brian’s idea to life. Justin could feel the energy and passion Brian had for the subject and Justin hurried to open the video, his gut clenching in excitement over the project and the fear of Brian’s all too obvious affection for her.

 

He hit the play button, and the scene opened on dense trees, leaves lazily swaying in the wind. The faint sound of hooves came from somewhere out of frame and a flock of birds took flight at the noise. It grew louder, the camera turning to look down a country lane as horse and rider came around the bend, racing into the scene.

 

Justin could already tell it was the woman from the stills, astride the biggest horse he had ever seen, shouting a fierce battle cry, right arm holding a knife flung out behind her, thundering into the camera, where horse and rider were paced, a close up of the determination on her face, before the camera let them go and watched as they disappeared out of sight.

 

The next scenes were mock battles, complete with bloodshed, and he recognized the agents that had accompanied Brian on his self-imposed exile. They were dramatic and forceful. Brian’s super hero was modestly feminine and supremely sexual without once being overt. It was all in how she moved and the peeks of flesh her costume revealed.

 

A perfect counterpoint for Rage.

 

Justin saved the email and closed his laptop, staring into space, wondering what the fuck was going on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Five hours later- Justin’s studio

 

 

To:ThunderStud@Trix4Kix.net

From:SunnyBoy@Trix4Kix.net

 

 

What is her name and superpower?

 

 

I love you too.

 

Later

 

 

 

Justin tapped his fingers on the desk, wondering if Brian would get back to him any time soon when his computer signaled and incoming email.

 

 

To:SunnyBoy@Trix4Kix.net

From:ThunderStud@Trix4Kix.net

 

 

Tempest (alter ego- Temperance)

Her heart.   ;)

 

I will send you more as it is generated.

 

 

 

Later

 

 

 

_WHAT THE FUCK!_

 

Justin panicked. Not only was Brian talking about his _feelings_ , but he was using _emoticons_ too?!

 

Justin’s world tipped on its axis and sent him reeling for the door and the safety of their apartment, where he hastily packed a small duffle. _Enough was enough_.

 

He absently answered the door when the bell rang.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Just as she had every morning since her episode, Jane was sitting on the closed toilet, wrapped in a towel and smoking. “Brian, I want to talk to you about what is going to happen after I leave here.” Brian’s gut clenched at the thought of not having her around.

 

“I think it is important that we discuss your triggers and how best to avoid them and if you can’t do that, how to work through them yourself.”

 

Brian shampooed his hair.

 

“You probably already know that stress is a big factor for you. Have you thought about how you are going to handle it when life returns to normal?”

 

_Normal. What the fuck was normal for him anyway?_

“Jane, I can’t think of hardly anything in my life that could be called normal.”

 

“I get that, but what I mean is normal for you. What would you _like_ normal to be for you?”

 

 

Brian rinsed the soap off of his body, moved the shower head so it sprayed the wall and reached a hand out of the stall for a towel. Wrapping it around his waist, he stepped out, taking the cigarette from Jane and shrugging. She stepped in, removed her towel, ran the edge through the towel bar and closed the stall.

 

“I don’t know.” he said. “I haven’t really thought about it.” He checked himself out in the mirror.

 

“Sure you have. Otherwise you wouldn’t be talking to me. You wanted something different than what you already had. Something better, so you made the decision to change.”

 

His reflection told him he had already done some changing. He had needed a haircut before the opening of Justin’s show and now it was even longer. He hadn’t used a styling product or the hairdryer on it since his stay in the hospital and its wavy lengths could now be tucked behind his ears. He hadn’t shaved since Jane’s episode and the facial hair he was sporting was completely new for him. The dense beard and mustache were sprinkled with silvery gray that he decided to call distinguished rather than go through the hassle of shaving it off. Picking up Jane’s teeny tiny scissors he began trimming it into precise neatness.

 

“Okay,” she said, smearing shaving cream on her leg. “If you don’t know yet what you _do_ want, tell me what it was that you didn’t want anymore.”

 

Brian thought about it before answering. “I guess I didn’t like feeling trapped.”

 

Jane stuck her head out of the shower door. “Give me an example of trapped.”

 

He turned to face her, “You know, like when someone tells you what they want for their birthday, so you get it for them, but when they open it, it is exactly what they expected, so there is no surprise. Even though they wanted it, the excitement is less. Whereas if you had picked something for them yourself, you might have gotten a more, organic, response.”

 

Jane nodded understanding and pulled back into the shower. “So you were chaffing because you could predict how certain events were transpiring and you were unhappy with the results. Was this before or after the panic attacks started?”

 

 

“Before, I think.”

 

“Was that feeling only happening when it involved work or did it bleed into your personal life too?”

 

“It was everything. I couldn’t escape it.”

 

“How did you deal with that?”

 

 

Brian set the scissors down, admiring the new look. He liked the authentic tan on his skin from his hours outside and had to admit the extra pounds he had put on by not restricting his diet added to the muscular bulk he had achieved by working his chores every day and staying active. He was still lean, but he was no longer skinny. His abs were more pronounced and he was pleased about it.

 

“The usual. Drinking, tricking, drugs.”

 

“What’s tricking?”

 

Brian snorted, “I believe the hetero term is casual sex with strangers, promiscuousness.”

 

“A man-whore?” Jane giggled.

 

Brian’s eyes narrowed, “I prefer the term, free-agent if you don’t mind. There will be no slut shaming in our room.” he decreed.

 

Jane laughed, she was well acquainted with Brian’s mock annoyance. Then she said, in all seriousness, “But nothing filled that void.”

 

Brian looked himself in the eye in the mirror, admitting it to himself, “No. It didn’t.”

 

The shower turned off and Jane wrapped a towel around herself before stepping out. He handed her a second towel to dry her hair and when she was done she took a minute to study his face. She reached out and rubbed her fingers in the silky strands of his beard, “It’s soft. Looks good on you too.” She gave him a brief peck on the lips. “I like it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t be mad, I told Mom I was coming to stay with you for Thanksgiving.” Molly said as soon as Justin opened the door. It took him a moment to get into the present, his mind had been so focused on getting to Brian.

 

“What? No. You can’t stay, I’m leaving.” he told her.

 

“Leaving? Where are you going? Are you going to look for Brian? I want to come too!”

 

Justin was shaking his head, “No, Molly, you can’t come. I’m not even supposed to be going and if Mom finds out you came too, she’s gonna be pissed. Not to mention how livid Brian is going to be when I get there. You don’t need to see that. Go home.” He packed his phone charger and tossed a spare set of sneakers in the bag.

 

“Forget it! Mom went with Tucker to his parent’s so no one will be home for a week. I don’t have school until next Tuesday so you either let me come too, or I’m gonna tell her where you’re going.”

 

Molly had braced herself in the doorway, blocking Justin’s exit. He knew she would do exactly as threatened, but he was way past the age where their Mother could make him do, or not do, anything. It wasn’t like she could ground him anymore. Still, he would rather she didn’t know about it and give him a lecture, or worse, let Cynthia or Everett know where he was headed.

 

Molly knew the moment her brother convinced himself it wasn’t worth the hassle and hurried to get out of his way before he changed his mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Geri followed Justin and Molly to the Amtrak station, wondering why Justin didn’t go to the airport, and Brian’s jet, if he was going to head to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving. When Justin put his car in long term parking, she got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and radioed in with her report that Justin and Molly were taking a long trip.

 

Doing the same with her own car, she kept her distance, as brother and sister went to the ticket counter and she heard Justin request two for Jackson, Mississippi. She maintained her line of sight on them as they moved off and she paid for one as well. Sticking the ticket in her back pocket, she put on her earbuds, and sat behind them in the lobby to wait for their train.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Tell me again, Honeycutt, why we are going to buy groceries at ten o’clock at night?”

 

“Because, the holiday is in four days and seeing that it is the only grocery store in these parts it is going to be packed. It will be bad enough this late at night, but if we went during the day or wait any longer, it would take forever. It would be a madhouse.” Emmett was explaining as if Brian should already know. “And don’t call me Honeycutt.”

 

Lara snickered in the back seat and cracked her window when Brian lit up. “So how come I was elected to help you?” Brian was asking.

 

“Lulah and Jane were already in bed. You were the one that happened to walk in as I was getting ready to leave. Marc had rounds and Noah was laid up on the couch nursing the knee you rammed into today. We have Lara because Marc wouldn’t let you go anywhere without someone toting a gun. Any more questions?”

 

It was then that Emmett copped onto the mischievous glint in Brian’s eye and realized the man was pulling his chain. “Bri-an!”

 

Lara and Brian were laughing at Emmett’s expense when he pulled the truck into the parking lot for the supercenter. It was still over half full and Brian dreaded the maniacal crowds inside.

 

Brian was secretly grateful Emmett had planned everything out. He had a list broken down into sections of the store so they could get everything they needed in that section without having to back track and skip entire sections altogether since they needed nothing from them. They had all items on the list in the cart in less than an hour and worked their way to the front of the store and the checkout counters.

 

Unfortunately, that was when their luck gave out. There were only five lanes open out of the twenty-seven available and the lines of people waiting snaked back into the shopping aisles. Emmett picked out a tabloid magazine and settled in for the wait. Brian flipped through a Forbes that had an article about his fundraiser. It was only one page, but it was accompanied by a photo of him and Emmett on stage. Brian snickered and showed it to Emmett who got a good laugh out of it too and teased him. “Hey, we look really hot together, maybe we should take our show on tour.” Brian gave him a ‘no fucking way’ look and as the line advanced he put the magazine, with the cover still folded back showing the photo, back into its slot on the rack.

 

Brian felt a tug on his sleeve, “Is that you?” a blonde boy of about nine asked, as he pointed to the picture.

 

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.” Brian said, tongue in cheek as Emmett went back to his tabloid.

 

“How come?”

 

“Because I’m on a secret mission and I don’t want my cover blown.” Brian was hoping that would get the kid to shut up. Instead, it made his eyes go wide and look around for what Brian supposed would be bad guys, then the kid leaned over and whispered, “My Daddy does that too, but he does it far away.”

 

Brian checked out what he assumed to be the kid’s family. The woman in front of them in the line had an infant strapped to her chest and a toddler of about three in the seat of her shopping cart. She had her dark blonde hair pulled back into a greasy ponytail and her sweatpants had seen better days.

 

The kid was talking again, “We came to get the food for Thanksgiving and get some stuff to send to my Dad. He’s a Army Ranger and Momma says we need to send him some socks and stuff cuz he’s in a big desert.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Uh huh, Daddy says I’m the man in the house while he’s gone and I’ma sposed to take care of Momma and the girls til he gets back from aployment after my birthday in March.” The boy had a very serious look on his face.

 

“Do you mean deployment?” Brian asked, as the line moved forward again.

 

“Uh huh, I’ma be just like my Dad when I get big. He’s tough and smart and my Momma’s almost as smart as him. Did you know she goes to school too? When I get big I’m not gonna go to anymore school.”

 

The woman started setting her stuff on the conveyer and called the boy’s name to get him to help, leaving Brian staring at the toddler. His first thought was, what on earth would possess someone to drag three kids to the store that late at night. Thinking about the conversation with the boy, about his mom going to school and Emmett’s earlier comment about how busy the store would be during the next few days, had him assuming this was the best time she could fit it into her schedule. She put a small turkey, potatoes, corn, milk, bread, formula, diapers, wipes, men’s toiletries, and a package of socks on the belt. As the cashier started scanning the items, Emmett filled the empty space with things from their cart, crossing the items off his list as he went.

 

“I’m sorry Ma’am, your card was declined, do you have another you would like me to try?” Brian watched the woman swipe the card again and when it was declined for a second time, the person behind Emmett started to get rude under his breath.

 

Brian saw the woman survey her items, obviously trying to decide what she could live without as the baby on her chest sensed her distress and woke up with a wail. She instinctively started rocking as she reached for the men’s items intending to take them off her bill, embarrassment making tears well up in her eyes.

 

_If not me, then who?_

Jane’s voice played over and over in Brian’s head until he pulled out his wallet and handed the cashier his bank card. “Use this.”

 

“No, sir, really I can’t take your money.” The young mother tried to stop it, but the cashier had already swiped it in an attempt to hurry her along.

 

“It’s no trouble. Really.” Brian hoped she wouldn’t make a scene and he was saved from it by the baby’s wail and the receipt printing out. She nodded in thanks, unable to speak and pushed her cart toward the doors while the little towhead kept stealing glances back at him.

 

Brian turned to Emmett and grabbed the money envelope and pen from his hand. He extracted five hundred dollars, shoved it at Emmett and walked off after the family, sticking the envelope in his pocket. He caught up with them as she was trying to load the groceries in the trunk. He didn’t say anything, he just opened the back door and picked the toddler up from the cart and put her in the pink car seat.

 

Coming to the back, the little boy was trying to convince his mom that he could return the empty cart to the corral, but she was having none of it. The parking lot was too busy.

 

Brian rubbed his knuckle across his forehead, “I’ll walk with him.”

 

She gave him a dubious look and Brian chuckled, “Yeah, I get it. But it’s just right there, and you can get the baby in the car and we will be right back. Here, you can hold my wallet as insurance.”

 

She took the wallet and set it on top of the car, while she bent to put the baby in the infant seat. The second her back was turned, Brian got the little boys attention, and said, “I have a mission for you. You have to sneak this envelope into your house and put it under your Dad’s pillow tonight.”

 

“How come it says ‘thanks for serving’ on it?”

 

Brian was running out of time and tucked the folded envelope into the boy’s pocket. “Your Mom will understand. Can you do the mission?” When he nodded vigorously Brian said “Good Boy.” walked him back to the car and retrieved his wallet.

 

 

He moved away as she backed out of her space and wrote down her license plate number on his palm. Emmett and Lara pulled up next to him and he climbed into the front seat. “Follow that car.” he said, adding “at a distance. I don’t want to scare her.”

 

Less than four blocks later the little car pulled into the driveway of a tiny house and Emmett drove past it to turn around at the corner and come back. Brian directed him to park at the curb and turn the truck off. He dialed his phone as they watched the woman take the toddler out of the car seat and sit her next to the boy by the front door of the house as she made several trips to get the groceries to the door.

 

“Hey, I need you to find out who owns the car with this license.” Brian read the numbers from his palm.

 

“Of course I know what time it is. Why, you have someone in your bed?”

 

The woman then took all of the kids inside and she made several more trips getting the groceries from the door to the inside of the house.

 

“Well it’s about time. See if there is a mortgage on this address,” Brian gave it to her, “if there is, pay it off. Call down here to one of the dealerships and purchase a mini-van and put the homeowner’s name on the title, have them deliver it as soon as possible. No I’m not drunk. Also I want you to set up a college fund for the entire family, start it with a hundred thousand. Find a house somewhere around here that has at least four bedrooms and two bathrooms and purchase it in _her_ name. Make sure it has a yard. Yeah, I will. Okay! Okay, I said I would, didn’t I? Sure thing. Turn around and tell Everett I said I knew he could do it. Later.”

 

Brian hung up his phone and indicated that Emmett could go back to driving, then said, “Not one word out of either of you.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Geri found a seat two rows behind and across the aisle from her charges. Settling in, she put in her earbuds and listened to some music as she worked a crossword puzzle left on the seat by its previous inhabitant.

 

* * *

 

 

“So why are we looking for Brian _now_? Hasn’t he been gone, like, almost a month?”

 

Justin fished through his bag for a pack of gum he knew he had thrown in there. “He has been gone for a while. But I need to see him right away. Something is wrong, I know it.”

 

Molly took a piece when he offered her the pack. “Like what? I would think someone would tell you if it was serious.”

 

“I don’t know if it _is_ that serious, but he’s acting all kinds of weird.” Justin dropped the bag to the floor between his feet and slouched into the seat.

 

“Uh, maybe you’ve never noticed, but Brian has always been a little weird.” Molly said it as if Justin was an idiot.

 

“No. No.” Justin was shaking his head, “eccentric, strange, and occasionally nerdy, but not weird. Molly, he used an emoticon in an email to me. He hates it when I use them. And I’ll tell you another thing, he’s all wrapped up in some _woman_!”

 

Molly’s eyes were round with shock, “He’s having an affair with a woman?”

 

“I don’t know, but he said he _cared_ about her and sent me a bunch of pictures and stuff with her in it.”

 

Molly’s eyes opened bigger, rounder, “Like _naked_ pictures?!”

 

Justin pulled out his laptop and showed his sister his evidence. After she had watched both the slideshow and the videos twice she said, “That is totally fucking awesome, I would _sooo_ buy that, even if it was a comic book!”

 

Justin was exasperated that Molly wasn’t seeing what he wanted her to see, “You’re not helping, Mol!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Two days later everyone at the lodge was working especially hard. A truck load of hay bales had been dropped in front of the barn, the vegetable garden needed to be harvested and tilled over, and Emmett and Lulah wanted to get started on cooking for the holiday the following day.

 

They had divvied up the chores at breakfast, Brian insisting he would work the bales into the barn. He gave the excuse of needing the exercise, but most of them figured out it was because he didn’t want to do anything girly, like gardening or cooking. He had already done his fair share of those things this week and was ready for something a bit more strenuous. Lara, Marc and Jane shared a silent communication over his ability to handle that much work, with Jane winning the argument, indicating she would keep an eye on him and let them know if he needed help.

 

By early afternoon the temperature was only sixty-three degrees, but Jane and Brian were both sweating. Brian removed his shirt and handed her the bandana from his pocket he had been using, asking her to tie it around his head to keep the perspiration and hair from his eyes. Conversation was minimal, given the effort of the work, and as the corner of the barn filled, it was taking longer for each bale to be loaded because the person carrying it had to climb the already stacked bales to get the current bale on top.

 

Jane could see he was getting tired but kept her mouth shut, knowing he would just get stubborn and refuse to quit. She started timing her pace with his, so she was climbing the stacks directly behind him should he falter.

 

They were at the top of the stacks, having both just set their bales in place, when they turned at the same time and her fingertips brushed his ribcage. A small grunting snort escaped him as he squirmed away, and started his decent.

 

Jane’s face lit with devilment.

 

She followed him out for another bale, but instead of picking one for herself, she waited until he disappeared into the barn, then pressed up against the wall by the door waiting for his return. She caught Lara’s eye, waving her over, indicating that Brian was done for the day and just as she and the other men were headed their direction, Brian emerged.

 

Jane pounced him from behind, wrapping an arm around his waist and using her free hand to tickle his ribs. Brian let out a surprised, barking laugh, and would have hit the ground had Jane not stuck her fingers in his belt loops to keep him upright. He tried twisting to get away, but she had plastered herself to his back and her tickling fingers kept him from being able to draw a full breath as he laughed and squirmed, Jane’s merriment floating in the air.

 

Marc, Noah, and Lara made quick work of the remaining bales while Brian was distracted. By the time the last one was loaded, Jane had wrestled Brian onto his back on the ground as she straddled his hips, digging into his ribs with both hands and was demanding he say “Uncle” at the top of her lungs. Brian gave in disappointingly early and when Jane stood up and offered her hand to help him up, he took it, making a great show of dusting off his backside.

 

He made a move, intending to go back to work, and seeing it already finished with the agents watching their antics, he knew she had done it on purpose to get him to take a break. His eyes narrowed as he slowly turned back to Jane…

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kinnetik was closed for the holiday but Everett and Cynthia were in his command station. Cynthia had finished up the work on her desk and met up with him as he sat poring over video. He had managed to use his connections to obtain the security feeds for some of the stores around the area Brian had been walking when he was stabbed and had been going through them when she walked in.

 

“All done up there?” he asked, holding out his hand and pulling her into his lap.

 

“For now. What are your plans for tomorrow?”

 

Everett stopped watching the monitors, turned his head to face her. “I don’t have any. Lara is with Brian and I don’t have any other family, so it’s just you and me, if you want.”

 

Cynthia nodded, “Sounds good. My place?”

 

“Sure.” he said, leaning forward and picking up a stack of papers. “Just need to finish going over the daily reports, then we can go if you want. I’m not making much progress on the feeds.”

 

She stood, “I’ll go get my things and meet you at the door.”

 

Everett nodded agreement, giving his attention to the papers in his hand. He made some notes on a few, flipping them into a different pile and stopped dead as he read the next report.

 

Dialing his phone, he snatched his pea coat from the hook, and took off down the corridor.

 

“Geri, Everett.”

 

Cynthia was standing by the employee door checking her voicemail when she heard the haste in his voice coming from down the hall where she couldn’t see him.

 

“I just read your report. Where in Mississippi are you?”

 

Cynthia’s gut knotted.

 

“I know what your orders were, I gave them to you!”

 

Dropping her phone into her purse as he approached she asked, “Brian?”

 

Everett’s head jerked in assent as he continued talking into his cell, “For right now, just follow, I’ll give Marc’s team the heads up. With any luck, he won’t find it and will give up looking. Call me directly, keep me posted.”

 

Cynthia and Everett left the building, locking it behind them, and got into Cynthia’s Audi. She started the car and listened as Everett tried to get a hold Marc.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Geri followed the sibling’s rental from a safe distance as they made another turn and circled back the way they had come. So far they had made the maneuver four times and were now parked on the shoulder of the road. Apparently, whatever sign or turn they were looking for had yet to make an appearance.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“I’m telling you for the fourth time, that is the turn!” Molly was aggravated, thrusting her hand in the direction of the dirt road that led off from the pavement across from where Justin had parked the car.

 

Justin snatched the GPS unit from her hand and zoomed the out the image on its display. “But this is a National Park? What the fuck would he be doing here?”

 

“Who cares? We’ve been travelling for two days and I’m tired and hungry. Take the damn turn and see where it goes.”

 

Justin was still shaking his head when Molly tried for logic. “Look, it will either lead you to Brian or it won’t. If it doesn’t, then we might still have a chance to make it back to Jackson before it gets dark and maybe score a hotel room. Hopefully they won’t all be full for Thanksgiving tomorrow, or did you forget that every town has been closed up since we left there?”

 

Justin put on his turn signal, checked the mirrors and crossed the highway for the dirt lane.

 

Geri made the call.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Cynthia pulled into the hectic traffic as Everett’s phone signaled an incoming before his call connected with Marc.

 

“Everett.” he said, answering.

 

“Shit.”

“No, I haven’t yet.”

 

“Nothing for it at this point. Fall back to Jackson.”

 

 

Everett ended the call, hit speed dial for Marc.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jane saw the glimmer of retribution in his expressive hazel eyes the minute he turned around. He knew what she had done and he was determined to make her pay for it as a broad grin split his face and he launched himself at her.

 

She dodged out of the way, barely escaping his grasping hand and took off running across the grass, screaming and laughing, Brian hot on her heels. She paid no attention as Emmett came onto the porch with Marc’s ringing phone in his hand. She snaked around him as he walked to the porch to retrieve it, keeping the big man between her and Brian, taunting and teasing him unmercifully.

 

When Marc reached the porch, Jane streaked off to garden, Brian shadowing her move, where she picked up the nozzle end of the water hose and doused him head to foot. The shock that she actually had the balls to do it, had Brian momentarily frozen in place, flushing red in annoyance, giving Jane the opening to dash around him in a wide arc and race back towards the barn, Bear running around her legs in joyful amusement.

 

Brian caught up with her, almost where it had all started, darting out a hand and grabbing the back of her waistband, planting his feet and tugging her back, their momentum toppling them to a heap on the ground.

 

Brian was the quicker of the two, slinging a leg over hers to pin them down and straddling her like she had him, digging his tickling fingers into her side while she laughed.

 

Jane tried bucking him off, squirming to get away, managing to free one leg. Brian saw his opening and shifted to drop his hips and legs between hers and used his superior weight to pin her to the ground with his chest.

 

Jane was trapped under him, squealing and laughing, gasping for air and screaming “Uncle”. Brian was laughing too, but pushed for a bit of punishment by burying his face in the crook of her neck and blowing raspberries on her skin making her squeal louder.

 

Jane was screaming for him to stop, his beard was too much, and he switched to tickling her face with it while Bear tried to worm his way in by licking her to death, tail wagging crazily, inciting Brian to switch tactics and lick her face like a big dorky dog while her legs kicked in the air above his back, yelling for him to stop before she peed her pants.

The next events happened almost simultaneously.

 

Bear took off running and barking at the car pulling in, Marc said, “Forget it, he’s already here.”, punching a finger on his phone to end the call and Jane went completely still under him, her head turned toward the road.

 

It wasn’t until she pushed on his shoulder and he heard Justin say his name that he became aware of the silence around him. He wished fervently in is head that Justin’s voice had been a figment of his imagination. Looking first at Jane as she rolled her head back to him, he saw that it was not his mind playing tricks on him when her eyes went soft in concern. He touched his forehead to hers and dragged in a breath, let it out, and briefly kissed her lips to let her know he was okay.

 

He thought it might have been Emmett that let out a whispered “oh, shit” from the porch but ignored it as he pushed back to kneeling and rolled to his feet, holding out his hand to help Jane stand up. She squeezed it gently, to tell him she would be there if he needed her, before letting his hand drop and walking to stand by Noah, who put his arm around her waist, and pulled her into his side.

 

Justin hadn’t missed a single second of the entire exchange and hurt blazed in his chest and shone from his eyes when Brian finally turned to face him.

 

“Brian?”

 

Brian knew what the question was. From Justin’s viewpoint, what had been a playful interlude, looked at best, to be something between lover’s and at worst, Brian all but fucking Jane in the yard in full view of anyone caring to watch.

 

Molly’s wide eyed shock easily conveyed what she thought she had seen, making Brian decide to purposely not look at Justin’s face as he marched across the distance between them, curled his fingers into the younger man’s shirt and hauled him into the house and up the steps behind him.

 

* * *

 

A hundred thoughts raced through Brian’s head as he dragged Justin up the steps, not the least of which was how the hell the younger man had found him.

 

A thousand thoughts raced through Justin’s head as he was dragged up the steps, not the least of which was, who the fuck was the bearded pod person wearing Brian’s jeans and making out with a woman on the front lawn?

 

All thoughts left both heads when Brian pulled Justin into the bedroom and kicked the door shut after them.

 

There was so much he wanted to say, to tell him, nothing fell from his lips but a painful breath of longing when sapphire eyes met his own. His heart contracted sharply, his vision narrowed, could hear nothing but his own ragged breathing as his brain fought for control of his body.

 

“Sofuckingbeautiful.” It tumbled out before he could stop it, didn’t want to admit to the thought, so crashed his lips to Justin’s before he could respond, and tangled his fingers in blonde hair.

 

Brian walked him backwards until they hit the bed, plundering Justin’s mouth with his tongue, delving into its depths with swift abandon. Justin’s mewl of pleasure vibrated into Brian’s mouth, seared a path to his gut and ignited a fire in his groin. The blonde was already toeing off his shoes, hands hastily running over sun warmed skin, tongue dueling for its fair share.

 

“Off…mmm…clothes...ahhh…now…” Brian got out between panting breaths.

 

Justin pulled the tee from his body, angry at the brief loss of Brian’s mouth, greedily latching back on when he was free.

 

He knelt to help Brian get out of his work boots and was subsequently almost slapped in the face with Brian’s fully engorged cock when he released it from the confines of his wet jeans, already dripping precum. Justin’s eyes went round and he licked his lips as it fell in a long, sticky, wet line halfway to the floor before breaking off. He had always loved Brian’s cock, but he had never seen it so big or dark. Brian’s heartbeat could be seen throbbing in the big vein on the underside and more fluid leaked from his slit every time it pulsed. Justin opened his lips to take it into his mouth, but the hand in his hair stopped him.

 

Brian gave him a short, negative, head shake and Justin knew Brian didn’t want to wait.

 

“Where?”

 

Brian pointed at the night stand on the other side of the bed. Justin shucked his pants and lay on his belly across the bed, reaching an outstretched hand into the drawer, giving Brian an unrestricted view of his perfectly round bubble butt. He sniggered as his hand grabbed the box of condoms and Brian let out a guttural moan. He felt the bed dip as Brian kneeled between his already splayed legs and he peeked over his shoulder to watch as his lover squeezed and released the base of his dick, letting the pre cum decorate his ass.

 

Brian ran his palm over his cockhead a few times, filling it with jizz, and wormed it past Justin’s balls until he cradled the long, dark pink shaft, trapping it between his belly and Brian’s hand on the mattress. Justin sighed his pleasure.

 

Brian stuck his face in the deep crease of Justin’s backside, turning his head back and forth until he reached his goal and inhaled the scent that was only his, laving his tongue over the pucker and nipping at the flesh around it. Justin was already grinding into his hand, so he wrapped his fingers tighter, eliciting a groan of approval from his mate.

 

Brian pointed his tongue and drove it into the tight ring of muscle just as Justin was thrusting into his hand making Justin grip the edge of the bed. Brian watched the muscles play under pale skin on Justin’s back as he continued rimming him, his beard teasing Justin’s perineum and ball sack as he brought his lover to orgasm, Justin’s cum soaking Brian’s hand, his own belly and the duvet. Brian dragged his hand back, smearing cum over Justin’s sack and using it as a lubricant to ease his middle and ring finger past the dark ring of his partner’s sphincter and into the hot channel, diving straight for the prostate where he curled and pressed, curled and pressed, his fingers until Justin was pushing back on his hand, panting, unable to form words, braced on his knees, begging Brian to fuck him.

 

It was music to Brian’s ears. He freed his hand, Justin moaning at the loss, opened a condom and rolled it on. Justin twisted so he could see Brian’s eyes go hyper-focused as he aligned his cock and watched as it sank into his eager hole. Brian’s abs tensed as Justin’s tightness engulfed him and Brian had to fight back the urge to cum.

 

Justin could feel Brian’s pulse throbbing in his shaft as it slowly retreated, leaving just the tip, and slammed back in, stabbing his prostate. Justin’s cock was hard again by the time Brian eased out and slammed in again. He continued the tortuous pace until Justin was leaking and fisting his cock, unintelligible words falling out of him, urging Brian to move quicker, harder.

 

He didn’t disappoint. He dug his fingers into Justin’s hip, pulling him back onto every thrust, faster and faster until their balls were slapping each other and sounds of sweaty flesh meeting filled the room to hover over the gasps, grunts, and moans of hurried fucking. Brian’s yell of triumph as his orgasm hit had Justin following a moment later.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jane hid her face in Dandy’s mane, willing the churning in her stomach to go away. Justin’s untimely arrival left her feeling dirty and bereft. Brian’s response had been exactly as she thought it would be and she hoped she had imparted enough skills for him to handle it without her, should he have a meltdown.

 

Right now, she didn’t want to be around anyone. Needed the freedom of flight her rides on Dandy allowed her.

 

“You let your episode happen, didn’t you?”

 

It was Lara, standing outside the stall.

 

Jane grabbed Dandy’s tack from the peg and moved to put it on him, so Lara couldn’t see her face. “Yes.”

 

“Non-specific acute anemia, chronic high anxiety, and I’m taking a stab in the dark with borderline diabetes.”

 

“Your point?” Jane asked, as she slipped the bridle over the horse’s big head.

 

Lara sounded concerned when she replied, “You could have prevented it. I saw your pills and vitamins. Did you do it on purpose?”

 

“No.” she laid her foot harness over his back and he danced sideways, wanting to run.

 

“This is the first time the two of you haven’t been joined at the hip since you got here, and I’ve been waiting to discuss it with you in private. I’m the medic of this outfit, I need to know if something like that is going to happen again.”

 

“It won’t.”

 

“So you did do it on purpose. Why?”

 

Jane finally faced her, fury making her face flush and hands shake. “Extreme temperature changes aggravate the anemia and can cause severe muscle cramping/seizing. The day I drove down here my rental car was broken, remember? I knew then an attack was a possibility and when Brian exhibited prolific protective and caregiving responses when we were talking later I decided not to take my medication in the hopes that when I had the attack he would recognize my trauma and trust himself to relive his own experiences. By giving him myself as an external way for admission of his own violation, it forced him to open up to me. What could have potentially taken weeks to admit, was accomplished in substantially less time. I could have told him about it, but Brian doesn’t trust words. He trusts what his eyes show him and his emotional responses. For lack of a better term, he trusts his instincts.”

 

“So it was all an act?” Lara’s confusion was barely overridden by betrayal.

 

Jane was pissed, biting out each word. “If you think for one second, being trapped in your own head, reliving every moment of excruciating pain you ever had, pain so bad it dwarfs the pain your body is currently going through, unable to communicate or control anything about yourself, is an act, then there is nothing I can say to change your mind.”

 

“So you let it happen. For him?” Lara asked.

 

Jane nodded once, succinctly, leading Dandy to the hay bales she used to mount him.

 

“You could have been really hurt, needed hospitalization?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Jane?”

 

She climbed onto Dandy’s back, glaring at Lara. “It’s _my_ body and I won’t apologize for doing _anything I can_ to help him.” she said, then kicked the horse’s side and bolted out the door.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian knew what he wanted, had been dreaming about it off and on for days. Pulling out of Justin, he sat back on his heels and removed the filled condom from his still half hard cock and slung it towards the wastebasket.

 

As satisfying as their fuck had been for taking the edge off, it still hadn’t reached the right chord Brian needed for full satiation. He touched Justin’s thigh, indicating he wanted him to turn over onto his back. When he complied, Brian immediately placed himself between his partner’s legs and buried his nose in blonde pubes, drawing the scents of sex and Justin into his starved lungs.

 

He pulled Justin’s left leg over his shoulder and wrapped his arm under the thigh, then back over to grasp the big pink cock. Brian stroked it, base to tip and back again, licking at the head and tasting Justin’s cum, savoring it, before taking the entire length into his mouth.

 

“Brian, I don’t think I can…” Justin was trying to say.

 

“Shut up.” Brian spoke around the dick in his mouth.

 

He pushed his body forward, bringing Justin’s knee higher, baring his partner’s pucker. Justin was getting harder. Brian hollowed his cheeks, using lips and tongue to his best advantage and pulled his hand back under him to play with Justin’s hole, teasing it before slipping his thumb inside, purposely letting the knuckle catch each time he pushed it in and dragged it out.

 

Brian bobbed his head several times, taking Justin all the way into his throat, working him to a full erection. When Justin was writhing under him, fingers digging into Brian’s scalp urging him to hurry, Brian pulled away, opened a condom and put it on Justin’s dick, making him purr in shocked surprise.

 

Brian didn’t give him any time to think about it or say anything, he just crawled up the pale body, planting light kisses as he went until he got to Justin’s mouth where he took his time. Slowly licking his way in, long languorous swipes, communicating his need. When Justin reciprocated in understanding, Brian moved around until he was facing away and straddling Justin’s cock.

 

Taking it in his hand, he lined it up with his entrance and slid down a fraction. He knew it was going to burn, relished it even as he breathed through it, his muscles contracting around the intrusion. Each time the contracting eased, he would push down a little further, breathe through it and do it again until he was fully seated, Justin’s cock swallowed by his ass.

 

Brian rose up, almost to the tip and sank down in one fluid motion, moaning at the stretch of Justin’s girth combined with the pressure on his prostate. Brian’s head fell back, as he set a languid pace, tugging on Justin’s roaming hand and pulling him up behind him, back to chest. Brian moved his lover’s hand over his torso, showing him how he wanted to be touched and when both pale hands played over his skin, Brian gave himself up to the sensations.

 

Justin let his hands go where they willed as he nuzzled and kissed whatever he could reach. Brian’s skin tasted warm and salty and smelled like only he could smell. An aphrodisiac on its own and twice as heady given it was _his_ dick in _Brian’s_ ass.

 

Justin’s hand moved to Brian’s exposed neck as he tipped his head back in bliss. The purring hums he was making deep in his chest were felt all the way up Justin’s arm. The sounds never failed to turn him on and drive him crazy with need.

 

Brian’s pace quickened incrementally, soaking in the attention of Justin’s hands and kisses. The chord was being strummed. The feeling of connection intense and overpowering, driving out the fear and anxiety, leaving behind only the wonder that someone could love him. Brian’s eyes closed, hyper-focused on those feelings of contentment and the soft yellow haze covering his mind’s eye.

 

“ _Sunshine_ …” he croaked.

 

Justin reached down, took Brian’s steel hard shaft in his hand and matched his strokes to Brian’s pace on his cock. Brian shivered with the new sensation, running his palm over Justin’s forearm, encouraging him for getting it just right.

 

Justin didn’t know how much more he could take, he was so close, and tried to say so.

 

“ _Bri…an_ …”

 

Hearing his name from those lips sent him over the edge of oblivion, his cum shooting into Justin’s hand and his ass clenching around Justin’s dick pulling the younger man over the edge with him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

 

 

Absence makes the heart grow fonder…or forgetful.

 

 

J.M. Barrie

 

 

 

 

Brian savored the silence in his head. An all too often rare occurrence since his attacks started a year ago. For now, he drifted in the quietude, leaning back into Justin’s embrace, allowing the post-coital petting and cuddling he usually stifled. Justin was making happy sounds as his hands caressed and his arms hugged to his heart’s content.

Brian slowed his breathing, enjoying the complete relaxation in his limbs and the absence of anything but his lassitude.

 

It wasn’t long before Justin broke into his bliss. “The condom.” he said, kissing Brian’s shoulder blade.

 

Brian leaned forward, lifting himself, as Justin held the condom and pulled out. Brian moved in the bed until he was half reclining against the pillows and lit a cigarette as Justin scooted off the bed and went into the bathroom.

 

Brian heard him pee and flush the toilet. Justin was washing his hands and wetting a cloth to clean himself up when he said, “God! It smells so good in here. Like a bakery or something.”

 

Brian grinned, “It’s Jane’s perfume.”

 

Justin came back with the cloth, climbed onto the bed and began cleaning Brian. “What’s it doing in your bathroom? You have a new kink I should know about?”

 

Brian used his thumb and pinkie finger to pluck at the faint hair on Justin’s knee. “It’s here because it’s _our_ room.”

 

Justin’s hands stilled, his head shaking in subconscious denial. “I don’t understand.”

 

Brian pointed, “That is _her_ dresser, with _her_ clothes in it. Those are _her_ toiletries in the bathroom and _her_ toothbrush. Those are _her_ pillows and that is _her_ side of the bed you are sitting on, where _she_ sleeps _every_ night _with me_. Is that clear enough for you?”

 

Tears welled in Justin’s eyes as he shot off the bed and threw the washcloth into the bathroom. He refused to let the tears fall as he rounded on Brian, demanding answers.

 

“Did you have sex with her?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh my God! You’re fucking her?!”

 

“No.”

 

Justin put his hands on his naked hips, eyebrows raised, waiting for Brian to elaborate. When no answer was forthcoming he shot out an emphatic hand, pointing at the offending side of the bed. “She sleeps here.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“With you.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Every fucking night.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because _I want her here_ , with me, in this bed, every night she is in this house.”

 

Justin slashed the back of his hand over his face, wiping the escaped tear away. “Okay.” he said, putting on his pants and trying to put on his shoes while standing on one foot.

 

“Where are you going?” Brian wondered how many times he was going to have to ask that question over the rest of his life.

 

 

Justin wondered how many times he had heard Brian ask him that question in the course of their relationship. “I’m leaving.”

 

Brian sat up, panicking, intending to start a conversation and explain, but stopped himself when Justin turned for the door, yanking on his shirt as he went down the steps.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Molly pushed her plate away. She was stuffed. Emmett had made her a huge ham sandwich and pasta salad. He stuck his hand in a picnic basket and withdrew a puppy, handing it to her with a bottle from the counter. Molly fed Ella on her lap while Emmett did the same with Duke.

 

Lara walked through the kitchen, her usually impassive face screwed into lines of worry as she headed to her room.

 

“They’ve been up there for a while. Do you think Brian is really pissed that we came here?” Molly asked him.

 

Emmett didn’t look at her, keeping his focus on the dog. “Sweetie, I think Brian has something else on his mind right now.”

 

Justin stumbled blindly past the archway of the kitchen to the front door, struggled for a minute getting it open and flung the screen door out of his way as he ran off the porch, letting it slam behind him as he fumbled for his car keys.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Jane glanced at her watch and saw that she had been gone for nearly two hours and it was approaching the time Emmett had said dinner would be done. From the looks of things, she would be eating by herself, since it would take at least another forty-five minutes to get Dandy rubbed down before she could go inside. She was hoping that fate would smile on her and they would all still be at the table when she got there so she could go upstairs and quietly remove the things she would need for the night from their room and move them to one of the smaller, vacant bedrooms.

 

She was crossing the side yard, Marc walking towards her, heading Dandy to the barn, when the slamming screen door got both of their attention. They saw as Justin shot off the porch wiping his face, and watched as he got into the rental, whipping it around and taking off down the road.

 

“Shit!” Marc said, digging in his pocket for keys and coming up empty.

 

Jane realized immediately what the problem was. “Give me your gun.”

 

“What?”

 

“ _Adversa in pace_. Remember? Give me your fucking gun.”

 

Marc pulled it from the holster, checked the safety, and handed it up to her, grip first. Jane stuck it in the back of her jeans and kicked Dandy into a run, chasing after the rental car.

 

Justin’s speed was somewhat limited, given the condition of the road. Being just a rutted track in the grass kept him from the satisfaction of racing away in a huff. His window was down so he had no trouble hearing the hoof beats thundering up behind his vehicle.

Seeing Jane, his anger pushed him to force the accelerator a little harder and the car lurched forward, shaking and vibrating from the rough terrain. The big horse caught up with him, paced him, and Jane hollered, “Stop the car.”

 

“No. I’m leaving.” Justin yelled back.

 

“What about your sister?”

 

“I will call her later and someone can drive her back to the hotel in Jackson.”

 

“Brian was right…you are an over-emotional twat. Stop the car!”

 

“Fuck him. Fuck YOU! Oh wait, he already did that. Fuck off!”

 

“Stop the Goddamn car and talk to me like an adult, or I will stop it for you and you can walk back to your precious fucking hotel, you fucking coward.”

 

“What did you call me?”

 

“Need I repeat?”

 

Her words rubbed him raw and he rolled up his window, ignoring any further comments from her. He was pleased when he saw Jane got the message and shot ahead of him, taking the curve in the road at top speed. Justin was congratulating himself for getting rid of her, when he rounded the bend and had to stop.

 

Jane had halted Dandy and had him standing sideways in the lane, blocking Justin’s only means of escape in the car. He figured two could play that game and revved the engine, making his intents clear.

 

Dandy danced in place, one big hoof pawing the ground. He had become accustomed to racing the yellow truck and was looking forward to another bout. Justin crept the car forward, figuring Jane would not allow the horse to be hurt, and would get out of the way.

 

He was wrong. Dandy stayed put and Jane pulled the gun, pointing it straight at Justin, making him slam on the brake.

 

 _She wouldn’t dare_ , he thought, moving his foot back to the accelerator and edging the car forward.

 

Jane took aim and shot the front tire on Justin’s side of the car.

 

He shoved it into park and flung himself out of the door, leaving it hanging open. “Oh that’s really mature!” he yelled at her and pulled the lever to release the trunk.

 

Jane waited until he had wrestled the spare tire to the front, looking past him as he came back with the jack. Marc had parked the Suburban about ten yards back on the road and was leaning against the hood watching the show with keen interest.

 

Justin was fuming, muttering to himself, as he set up the jack. When he had raised the car up just enough for the, now flat, tire to have the weight taken off, Jane shot the opposite tire. Justin’s hands flew in the air as he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Are you Fucking Crazy?!”

 

Jane put the safety on the gun and tucked it back into her waistband. Her voice was calm when she replied, “Absolutely certifiable and I have the pills to prove it.” She kicked Dandy into a trot and leaned into the jump as he leapt _onto_ the car, his steel shod hooves and massive weight caving the engine cover, roof, and trunk lid as he stomped his way over the top, shattering the front and back windows. When he was on solid ground again, Jane nudged him into a canter and rode away in the direction of the setting sun.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Marc considered himself to be a simple man. Years of service in war torn countries taught him that strife often led to unsavory things and he did his best to avoid it in his daily life. When Everett had hired him, he had been assured that his duties would be mostly run of the mill security and protective guard.

 

He didn’t feel like he was doing that now.

 

Now he felt like he was babysitting, as he silently watched Justin fume and pace around his destroyed rental car, muttering and waving his arms in a heated discussion with himself.

 

To Marc’s way of thinking, Justin had been let off easy. Jane’s temper was well known and Marc had followed as quickly as he had been able, to deter what he had assumed was going to be and ugly confrontation. When he had parked the truck and gotten out so she could see him, he had briefly wondered if she would follow through and shoot the blonde, she had looked so angry.

 

He should have remembered Jane had a cooler head than that, even with a raging head of steam. Marc had almost let a chuckle loose when she had waited for Justin to start replacing the flat before making him another one. The icing on the cake had been Dandy’s crushing of the car. Justin’s face had gone from anger, to shock, to fear, then back again.

 

Marc was pretty sure Jane had made her point. There would be no leaving Brian until Justin grew a pair of balls and talked to her.

 

Marc settled in to wait as Justin continued to fume and pace in the road.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jane checked the time on her watch as she filled the horses’ feed and bedded them for the night. Looking around, she realized there was nothing left for her to do in the barn with which to stall her confrontation with Brian. Sucking it up, she gave each of the horses a rub on the nose as she passed each of their stalls and headed back to the house.

 

It was full dark and she wanted nothing more than a shower and her bed, until she realized she had yet to get her things and move them to a different room. Deciding to do it with as little fuss a possible, she opened the door of the lodge and stepped in.

 

She was passing the archway to the kitchen and noticed everyone was still at the table, silently eating dinner. They all looked at her expectantly until she noticed that Marc and Justin were missing. Brian seemed stoic, unconcerned, while he ate a bite of chicken.

 

Then his eyes met hers and she could tell how miserable he was. The hazel was dark with worry and questions, asking her if Justin was still here, if he was okay, if she was okay.

 

“Shit.” she muttered. Jane said his name, tilting her head in the direction of the stairs and all eyes turned to him when he rose from his chair and led the way up.

 

Jane was careful not to slam the door like she wanted to, instead she turned the knob while she closed it, insuring it made no sound. She stood facing it, her forehead braced on the cool wood, trying to calm her racing heart and ragged breathing. “Why did you tell him?”

 

Brian leaned against the door next to her, upset that she wasn’t looking at him, and not wanting to have this conversation. He lit a cigarette, his arm brushing hers in what seemed a casual accident, but was really much more.

 

“Answer the damn question.” she demanded.

 

Brian took his time, trying to put into words something he wasn’t sure he understood himself. “He asked me why your things were in here and I told him…we share this room because…I want you in here.”

 

Jane’s shoulders slumped and she turned her head so he couldn’t even see the side of her face anymore, just the back of her head. Brian went on, “He asked me if I had sex with you and…I wouldn’t lie about it. He got upset, asked me if I was fucking you and I said no.”

 

Jane pressed her body to the wall, crossing her arms over her waist, then faced him. “Do you have any idea, how that made me feel?”

 

Brian had a pretty good idea. “Angry…betrayed…” his voice dropped an octave, became a scratchy croak, “dirty…ashamed.”

 

Jane took a deep breath, doing her best to keep her emotions in check, Brian watching her struggle, wishing she would yell at him, hit him, curse him, anything to take the look of disappointment from her face.

 

“I’m sorry.” It fell out of his mouth unbidden, but he acknowledged to himself that he meant it anyway.

 

“I know.”

 

Her simple statement, her understanding, let him off the hook and he wondered that it could be so easy with her. How could she forgive him so quickly when he knew just how much it had cost her?

 

He moved to the side table and put out his cigarette, still feeling like he owed her an explanation. “After we…” he paused.

 

“Fucked?” Jane supplied.

 

“Mmm” Brian assented. “He went into the bathroom. To clean up. It suddenly hit me what he did, by coming here. I was angry that he took the risk. I was scared of what could have happened.”

 

Jane nodded, the risks Justin had taken had repercussions for everyone involved.

 

“I realized I was also angry because he had intruded on something that I wanted to keep for myself. His presence here would change that, had already changed it the moment he drove up.”

 

Jane covered her face with her hands, not allowing Brian to see her. “I know.”

 

Brian was sure she did. Jane was no dummy. “I needed him to leave and you were convenient. I didn’t want to explain, but I was ready to try, and he walked out. I wondered how many times I’m going to have to watch him do that.”

 

Jane’s hands dropped and she stuck her fingers in her pockets, not letting him move his gaze from hers. “He didn’t do it on his own. You pushed him.”

 

Brian’s lips rolled in. He nodded.

 

“He has to stay now. At least for a while, until arrangements can be made and your security is assured.” Jane pushed from the wall and walked to stand in front of him, tilting his head down with her hands as she looked up into his face. “Tomorrow is the holiday. I think staying through the weekend should be sufficient, but I will discuss my opinions with your team. Now I will go make nice with your young man and get him to come back. It will be your job to make it up to him, the right way.”

 

Brian closed his eyes, knowing it was going to be one of the hardest discussions with Justin he had ever had. Jane wasn’t going to let him hide and he knew it. “If you need help, I’m here. But I won’t do it _for_ you. You love him. It is important that you tell him.”

 

Brian knew exactly what she was talking about and cringed at the thought of telling Justin about his childhood. Jane pressed her lips to his in support until he opened his eyes a few moments later, letting her in. He hugged her and she wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to give him what courage she could.

 

Then she stepped away, a glimmer of mirth sparkling in her face. “By the way, you’re going to have to pay for a new car at the rental company. I kinda destroyed it. To…you know…keep him from leaving.”

 

Brian’s bark of a laugh followed her down the steps, easing the pain in her chest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Marc wished he had a stiff drink in his hand. Justin had finally stopped pacing and fuming about fifteen minutes ago and now sat dejectedly leaning against the crumpled rental, his knees pulled up into his chest as he drew pictures with his finger in the dirt.

 

“You can leave me here, you know. I’m not a child needing to be babysat.” Justin said, not looking Marc’s way.

 

“Well if you weren’t acting like a big baby, I might consider going back and getting the meal I’ve missed, but here you are.” Marc didn’t care if he hurt the younger man’s feelings. Justin had been stupid to come here in the first place and even more stupid to think he could just tear out of there without letting anyone know or making sure he was safe about it.

 

“I’m not a baby.” Justin retorted testily.

 

“Okay. How does hormonal teenager sound? That more your style?”

 

Justin snorted impatiently. “You can go. Your job is to protect Brian, not sit in the dark with me.”

 

Marc reached into the cab and flipped on the headlights, bathing the area in light and walking over to squat in front of him. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, kid. Brian has a contract with Everett for security details on everyone he cares about, around the clock. Your being here just _made_ you my problem.”

 

“You can go Marc.” It was Jane’s voice coming from the darkness behind the Suburban. She stepped into the field of light, “I made this particular mess. I will do what I can to clean it up.”

 

Marc stood, searching her face for whatever he could find that would give an indication of her emotional state. All he could see was the lines around her eyes were deeper and she looked really tired. Weary. Resigned.

 

“You sure about this Jane?” His concern was not lost on Justin as she nodded and Marc walked off, heading back to the lodge.

 

Jane waited until he had been gone long enough to be out of earshot, then she slid down next to Justin in the dirt. “Sorry about your car.” she said, rapping her knuckles on the metal of the frame by their heads. “I couldn’t let you leave. He would have spent all his time worrying about you and it could derail the progress he’s worked so hard for.”

 

“I could sue you, you know. For sleeping with a patient.” Justin said it politely, but the threat was unmistakable.

 

Jane laughed, a full throated, belly laugh that had tears trickling down her face. “I don’t know if I should be pissed or glad that this is just about jealousy.” she said shaking her head and wiping at her face.

 

“I’m not jealous!”

 

“Sure you are.” Jane moved to sit in front of him. “Your jealous because I obviously have a relationship with him and you think it threatens yours. Brian’s admission that we had sex, if you want to call it that, destroyed the box you put him in. The lothario, the passionate lover, the stud, the non-conformist, no longer the superhero righting the wrongs in your world. He just became human for you.”

 

Justin looked away, not admitting to any of it. Jane touched his leg, waiting until he turned back to her.

 

“What you don’t realize, because you didn’t stick around for an explanation, is that he is still all of those things. In fact, it is because he is those things, that he did what he did. I was in a difficult situation, shortly after coming here, and presented a way for both of us to achieve a level of satisfaction. Being a lothario, or stud, made the offer easy for him, to accept it for what it was. A release. The non-conformist box still fits, because he did it with me, a woman, though why it should matter is beyond me, since I’m fairly confident you haven’t stuck with just men in your life either, for whatever the reason.”

 

Justin had the grace to blush at that, but kept his lips tightly closed.

 

“It’s the superhero part that fits what we did the best though. Brian recognized a trauma I had suffered and as a way to right a wrong, help me recover a more balanced mental state, let me use his body in an effort to give me some control. He is a very passionate man, about many things, but what we did wasn’t about that. It was about reassurances and support. I’m sure you have seen him use that tactic before. Communication through physical means is a big part of who he is, given his lack of trust in words.”

 

Justin opened his mouth and Jane cut him off. “As for suing me, you are welcome to try. I don’t hold a license anywhere, he is not my patient, and consensual sex between adults is hardly grounds for a lawsuit. I am a friend trying to help someone I care about make it through a difficult situation of mental instability by teaching him better coping skills. Now get up and move your ass. I’m tired, hungry and need a shower.”

 

She grabbed his elbow and helped haul him to his feet, then flipping off the lights and removing the key from the Suburban, setting off on the hike for home.

 

Justin wanted to make his stance clear and tugged on her arm until she stopped and faced him. “I love him. Have loved him my entire adult life.”

 

Jane nodded understanding. “I want _what is best for him.”_

When she turned to resume walking, Justin’s hand on her sleeve stopped her again. His face was set in stubborn lines when he said, “He loves _me_ , Jane.”

 

She smiled brightly at him, green eyes dancing, even in the dark, “Which is exactly why I shot the _car,_ and not _you_.”

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Marc followed the pair, on foot, from the tree line, and out of their sight to keep an eye on them. Justin was asking Jane about Brian’s illnesses and Jane was doing her best to educate him without revealing anything Brian had confided in her. Justin picked up on her refusal to tell him anything specific without Brian’s knowledge and switched to more general questions about his therapy and how she was treating it.

 

Jane gave him the barest basics, then asked how Justin was holding up while Brian was away. “I mean, besides the whole, risk everyone’s lives in the process of coming here, thing.” she said, politely.

 

Justin stopped walking and Marc drew his radio to his mouth in case he needed backup.

 

“I love him. I had to see him, make sure he was okay.” He said it as if it was something even a small child could understand and Jane just stared at him, one eyebrow raised.

 

Then she tsked, shaking her head in disappointment. “You know, Justin, I have one rule with the people that I help, and that is complete honesty. With me and themselves. Even though I wasn’t sure about how serious he was about being treated in the beginning, Brian has been stellar in the honesty department. He has admitted to a lot of things some might call questionable behavior, but he at least admits his real motivations, even if he isn’t proud of them. So, how about you just tell me that you came here, risking not only your life but all of ours as well, including the life of the man you love, to make sure you got rid of me, and barring that, to put me in my place and make sure Brian didn’t forget about you.”

 

“That’s not why…” he started.

 

“Don’t lie to me. If you really came here to make sure he was okay, then our little romp in the yard wouldn’t have driven you over the deep end. You would have taken it at face value and been happy for him. Two people enjoying a good time, though I had the motivation of getting him to take a break after pushing himself so hard. But you didn’t wait for that explanation.”

 

“He dragged me insi…”

 

“You made it perfectly clear what you thought by your tone of voice when you said his name, worse, you slept with him anyway. Why did you do that? Why didn’t you insist on getting your questions answered first? Could it be because you wanted his focus elsewhere, so he didn’t call you out on showing up here? Do you have any idea, how fucking terrified he is right now?”

“But nobody can hurt him here, he has guards, security.” Justin insisted.

 

“Do you even know him at all? He’s not scared for himself you fucking twat, he is scared _for you_.” Jane took off at a steady jog, determined to get a meal and some of her clothes moved. It was only seven p.m. but she thought she just might fall asleep standing up.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian stood from the swing the moment Jane entered the clearing. He met her at the top of the porch steps where she held up a hand for silence and went into the house. Brian followed, leaning in the archway of the kitchen while she made a sandwich and carried it upstairs.

 

He was torn. He wanted to know if Justin was coming back, but Jane obviously didn’t want to talk. He was uncomfortable for putting her in the position of mediator, especially after making her the interloper. He pulled the radio from his hip and called Noah.

 

“Where is Justin?”

 

“Marc said he just went into the barn and is wandering around, looks like it may be a while before he comes inside.”

 

“Anything I should know about?”

 

“You’d have to call Marc, he didn’t say much to me about it, other than she killed the car.” Noah’s statement was followed up with a chuckle of good humor and a dose of respect. “Remind me to not piss her off in the future, eh Kinney.”

 

“Right. Let me know when he heads this way.”

 

“Sure thing, Boss.”

 

Brian switched to Marc’s channel, then decided to clear the air with Jane first. He clipped the radio to his back pocket and headed up the stairs.

 

She was moving around the bedroom, tossing some things into a laundry basket and eating at the same time, ignoring his presence when he sat on the bed and lit a cigarette.

 

“Talk to me Jane. Tell me what I can do to fix this.” Brian was at a loss.

 

Jane was already shaking her head and started talking around the food in her mouth as she threw pajamas into the basket. “I agreed to get him to come back. I’ve done that. _You_ have to fix it with him. He sees me as competition, though I am the furthest thing from it.”

 

“I will explain it to him.” Brian offered.

 

“Yeah? What are you going to say? Hey, by the way, she and I both had traumatic childhoods that make us so fucked up it is easier to sleep with somebody than be alone with ourselves. That we desperately seek approval from others while not feeling anything but loathing for their conformist values because we would do anything to _just be normal_? Normal, a word that incites fear and anxiety and longing? I know, how about you tell him that we do the things we do, even at risk to ourselves and others, to simply feel _anything_ other than self-contempt at the miserableness of our daily existence. While you’re at it, you can let him know, that even though you love him, if he stays with you, he will always be the most convenient outlet for your temper and your fear. That, if he stays, you will hold him too tightly one day and shove him away in the most painful way possible the next. That it will last your entire life, because there is _no cure_. Only management. That you will have to say you are sorry so many times, that it will lose its meaning, and because of that, saying I love you, will too. Yeah, that sounds good. Let me know how that works out for you.” She took another bite and went to the bathroom, coming back with her arms full and the sandwich hanging from her mouth.

 

“Is that how _you_ feel?” Brian asked, wondering how she had managed to strike so close to home, when he had carefully kept those feelings from her, not even consciously admitting them to himself.

 

She unloaded her arms into the basket and tossed the rest of her meal into the trash, sinking onto the edge of the bed. “Some days. Not even most anymore, but some.”

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Marc sat on the hay bales, waiting for Justin to decide to go inside. He heard the younger man’s stomach rumble and picked up his radio to ask Emmett to bring something out to them. As soon as he switched it on, Jane’s voice could be heard. She sounded upset, and when he went to change the channels, he realized Brian’s radio was on mic and Justin walked to him and grabbed it away.

 

Marc had a choice to make. He could take back the radio and turn it off. He could say something, making Jane and Brian aware of their audience. Or, he could let Justin hear what was being said.

 

“He sees me as competition, though I am the furthest thing from it.” They heard Jane say.

 

Then Brian’s “I will explain it to him.”

 

Marc moved to take the radio from Justin, but he waved him off and put it closer to his ear as he sat down to listen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“He needs to know that if he commits to a relationship with you, exactly what he’s getting.”

 

“I know.” Brian didn’t want to admit it, but he did. “What if he decides he can’t do it? The long haul.” _Christ, it hurts just to say it._

 

“Then it is better that you know now. I can teach you both everything I know on how to deal with these illnesses, Brian. And it can work. But if he signs on for it now, and decides it’s too much later…”

 

“It would destroy me.” _It almost did the last time._

 

Jane said, “You could still recover from it.”

 

Brian knew what she _wasn’t_ saying and voiced it out loud. “ _But I wouldn’t **want** to_.”

 

Jane nodded. “You have obsessive and addictive personality. You have had a casual to semi-serious flirtation with death for over two decades. Throw in the PTSD and the traumatic brain injury and the melting pot boils. Add a dash of drama and a bad breakup? Who knows what could happen? I am not telling you to kick him to the curb, I’m telling you he needs to know what the future holds. He has a choice to make and you have to make sure he is doing it informed. You have kept things from him for a long time. It is your right to share or not share your past. But he has to know the illnesses. The more honest you are with him now, the more I am able to help you both get through this. I didn’t sign on for marriage counseling, Brian, but I know how much you love him.”

 

Brian’s voice was laced with regret. “We aren’t married.”

 

“What? I thought when you said he was your partner…”

 

“I know. We were going to, but we decided not to go through with it.”

 

“But why not?”

 

Brian didn’t answer and Jane didn’t push. Brian already looked like he had been through the wringer and after the day they had had, she could relate. She wrapped an arm around his waist, hugging into his side.

 

“Please don’t leave this room.” He said it so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

 

Jane sighed, “I suggested to him that they stay for the weekend, hoping the two of you could work some of this out. You are not going to manage that with me in this room and you know it. I am already the bad guy, and I can deal with that, but I don’t wear ‘Third Wheel’ very well. It makes me look gluttonous.”

 

Brian gave her credit for trying to find humor, even if he didn’t feel like laughing. She stood and picked up the laundry basket and went into the hall, intending to take it downstairs to an empty bedroom but halted at the top of the steps when Brian said her name. She faced him as he walked across the hall and opened the door of the workroom.

 

She understood that he was asking her to take that room, so she could be close. That he _needed_ her to be close by. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but couldn’t find a plausible reason to deny him, so she carried her things in and set them on the bed.

 

Jane felt, rather than heard, him come up close behind her and his body heat hit her full on as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently. She leaned back into him as he spoke softly, “Thank you.”

 

She turned in his embrace, bringing her hands to his face and pulling his head down to hers until their foreheads touched and their breath mingled, “Your welcome.” Holding his face a few moments more, she said “Go get your young man and make it up to him.”

 

Brian’s radio made the squalling sound that happened when two open mic channels got too close together and he reached back to quell the noise. Justin stepped into the doorframe and took his finger off the speak button, just as they noticed him, and the absence of sound was louder than the noise had been. Both Brian and Jane paled, realizing at the same time, that Justin had heard their entire conversation _and_ caught them in another innocent, yet seemingly otherwise, position.

 

“I can explain. I want to explain.” Brian said as he rubbed the fingers sticking out of the sling with his other hand.

 

Jane noticed and her eyes narrowed. He hadn’t done that in almost two weeks and the return of the habit let her know just how upset he really was about talking to Justin.

 

Brian closed the distance between them, slid his hand around the back of Justin’s neck, pulled his head in until their lips brushed. “I’m so sorry…I…”

 

“It’s all right, Brian. I heard everything.” Justin kissed him back. “But Jane is right, we need to talk.”

 

Brian searched his eyes for a moment, then left to cross the hall. Justin stayed, watching Jane, looking to see if he could tell how she was feeling. She smiled at him, carried some of her toiletries to the bathroom, and when she returned he was gone.

 

She quietly closed the door and locked it, ignoring her shaking hands and heaving a hitching breath into her burning lungs. She ran a hand over her face and went back to the bathroom to take a shower. Selecting a playlist, she turned on the taps and stepped into the stall.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Molly was on the floor of the living room, playing with Duke and Ella. Emmett glanced in to check on her and make sure she was distracted before coming back to the kitchen. Lara was at the table, peeling a big bag of potatoes and Lulah was chopping onions and celery at the counter.

 

Emmett sat, took a sip of his Long Island Tea, and fished for information. “So, Marc, you said Justin heard everything?”

 

Marc rustled a beer from the fridge, “Yeah.”

 

“Sooo…do you think they’ll work it out?”

 

Noah gave Marc a pointed look and Lara stayed decidedly silent on the subject. Noah said, “I went to the top of the steps and I could hear Jane’s music so I assume she is in the shower as usual. Brian’s door is closed but I could hear them talking. Seems Brian took her advice.”

 

Emmett fairly crowed, “Well, will wonders never cease? Our little Brian, using his mouth to communicate rather than his dick. Who knew?”

 

Everyone had a chuckle at Emmett’s sarcasm, knowing it was good natured and that Brian had been doing nothing _but_ talking since Jane had showed up. Still, the humor was welcomed and appreciated after the drama of the day.

 

They worked in companionable silence when Marc’s cell rang and he went outside to take the call. Jane came down about twenty minutes later and started peeling apples. Noah was dicing the potatoes when Marc came back in and checked to see Molly was still occupied, then sat as everyone leaned in to hear what he had to say. “I just got off the phone with Everett. Geri said she doesn’t think they were followed here, but there is no guarantee. I’d like to have a couple more guys on site, just to be safe, but Everett thinks that might draw more attention if New York is being watched. He can call some of his people that work out of town, but with the holiday, most of the staff are either already engaged or having Thanksgiving with their families. Looks like the earliest he can get someone here is Saturday, maybe Sunday.”

 

Lara said, “Well, we will just have to be extra vigilant. Make sure someone is always on rounds and the rest of us will make sure they always have eyes on them. We will stick with the radios and get back on regular checks. We’ve all kind of relaxed since we’ve been here, it wouldn’t hurt to step it back up again.”

 

There were murmurs of agreement and Marc started working on a schedule. Jane set the knife down, precisely, laying a half-peeled apple on the table and wiping her hands on a dish towel. She stood and walked to the window, staring out at the dark and came to a decision. “Give me a gun. I am with him the most, out of all of us here.”

 

Marc nodded and Jane held up a hand, indicating she wasn’t finished. “I will call my husband. He can be here by tomorrow night and will help with security.”

 

Marc tensed then asked Jane if he could talk to her on the porch. She followed him out and when Lulah raised a brow in question, no one had an answer for the odd behavior.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Look, I know what your concern is, and you and I both know that if you want someone to watch him, my husband is the best there is. It will only be until you can get another person to replace him and right now, beggars can’t be choosers. It is four days, tops, then he’ll go.”

 

Marc was shaking his head. “Jane. I know you mean well, but I have never worked with him and he hasn’t been vetted by Everett. The man would have my balls if I brought in an outsider. I just can’t do it. Please, understand that it is not my decision to make.”

 

“I do understand. Call Everett. He did a full background check on me before I was allowed to come within twenty miles of Brian and I’m sure it included my husband’s service record. Just call him and let me know what the outcome is. The sooner the better.”

 

Jane went back inside and Marc made his phone call.

 

* * *

 

 

Justin could only stare in stupefied silence. He had all he could do to keep his face neutral as Brian talked. And talked. And talked some more. He didn’t think Brian had ever spoken so many words to him in all the time they were together, _combined_. It seemed that once the door had been opened, Brian had rushed through it, endeavoring to tell Justin everything he had always wanted to know, whether he liked it or not. Whether he was prepared to hear it or not. Justin could not have gotten a word in edgewise, even if he wasn’t sitting there in shock and was capable of actual speech.

 

Brian was telling him everything he had told Jane in an effort to show Justin that he was still important to him. He was explaining his diagnoses and what it meant for his life and therefore what it would mean for Justin’s if they were together. Telling him how Justin needed to take his time making the decision of whether or not he could live with it. Brian insisted that it not be taken lightly and that he would understand if Justin didn’t think he could handle it and made the choice to leave the relationship.

 

He talked for six straight hours while Justin listened. He listened when Brian told him how he felt the first night they met all the way to how he felt leading into their marriage and Justin’s subsequent move to New York and why he had pushed him to do it. When Brian mentioned that he thought Justin himself was an addiction for him, Justin’s whirling brain came to a screeching halt.

 

“Wait…what do you mean I’m an addiction?” Justin squeaked out.

 

“Why else can’t I live without you?” Brian asked as if the answer was that simple.

 

“You _have_ lived without me. Several times, in fact.”

 

Brian nodded, “Yeah, and I was so fucking miserable I wanted to crawl in a hole and die.”

 

Justin was confused. “Then why keep pushing me away? You know I would have stayed if you had said that was what you wanted.”

 

“I thought I could quit cold turkey, but every time it got worse. The guilt, that I made you leave. That it was my own damn fault.” Brian leaned against the headboard, finally all talked out.

 

Justin climbed into his lap, straddling his legs and kissing him. Brian let him deepen it, liking where it was headed as Justin’s fingers worked the clasp of his belt, the familiar clanking of the metal buckle like music to his ears.  

 

“Brian?” Justin said, as he pulled back to look at the face of the most complicated person he knew.

 

Brian followed the movement, leaning forward to help peel off Justin’s shirt. “Hmm?”

 

When Brian’s hand ghosted over a pale taut nipple, Justin let his head fall back. “Brian, you were miserable because you’re in love with me.”

 

Brian took advantage of the newly exposed neck by opening his mouth and drawing his tongue over Justin’s windpipe and then kissing over to his ear. “That’s exactly what Jane said.”

 

“Smart woman, did she score 1500 on her SATs too?” Justin released Brian’s cock from his jeans and gave it a long, slow, pulling, stroke.

 

“Mmm, do that again.” Justin did and Brian said, “Ahh…feels so fucking good. You should see her work a room. The woman can talk politics, medicine and dog training in the same conversation without missing a beat.” He helped Justin pull off his pants then lifted his hips so Justin could return the favor.

 

“Sounds intriguing. Does she do windows?” Justin teased. Brian gave him a playful slap on the ass and wrapped an arm around Justin’s waist, hauling him back onto his lap, where Justin settled with a happy sigh and ran fingers over the scar on Brian’s ribs making him laugh.

 

“Actually, I don’t think I have found anything yet that she can’t do. She cooks, handles horses, works as hard as anyone. She’s honest and funny, has a fucking temper that is fascinating to watch, and the most incredible eyes I have ever seen, that change color with her moods.” Brian held out his hand and Justin dribbled lube on his fingers.

 

“The stills you shot were amazing. They were so fluid, like you could see her moving in them. Oh, God. Don’t stop.” Brian worked a third finger into Justin’s ass while pressing his thumb onto his perineum. “Hard to believe she can look like that. She seems harmless in regular clothes.” Justin was rolling his hips, inviting Brian’s fingers in further.

 

Brian obliged him, curling them into his prostate on the inside and pressing into it with his thumb from the outside, “She’s anything but harmless.”

 

Justin moaned, capturing Brian’s mouth in a heated kiss before breathlessly saying, “You’ve gotten really good at that.”, and licking his way back into Brian’s mouth.

 

“I’ve gotten…good…at lots…of things…one handed.” he replied, each time he pulled up from Justin’s mouth for air.

 

“So I’ve noticed.” Justin opened a condom and watched Brian’s face while he rolled it onto his lover’s cock. Brian removed his hand and used it to hold his dick as Justin slid down its length.

 

His breath caught as Justin made it to the base and clenched his ass. “I fucking missed you so much…” Brian ground out, as his toes curled in pleasure.

 

Something took flight in Justin’s chest hearing Brian say those words so easily. A weight lifted, letting whatever was under it, breathe freely for the first time.

 

Brian’s face was buried in his neck and Justin brought both hands to his jaw, sliding his fingers into the new beard, knowing he would draw Brian this way at the first possible opportunity. He raised and lowered himself, Brian gripping his hip and using his teeth to graze the sensitive skin of Justin’s collarbone.

 

Justin inhaled the scent from Brian’s hair. “You smell so good.”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“You still smell like you…” Justin made a show of sniffing him again, “but there is fresh hay and cut grass too.” He sniffed again. “You smell like outside and nutmeg. It’s so fucking hot and it’s making me hungry.” He pulled Brian’s lips to his again, increasing his pace, impaling himself faster and faster until Brian lay back, completely at his mercy.

 

“I promise…ahhhh….to fill…uhhhhuuh…your mouth…later. Much, much, later.” Brian teasingly groaned.

 

It wasn’t long before Brian was begging for release, something he rarely did, telling Justin _how much he loved him_ , and that thing in Justin’s chest that had taken flight such a short time ago, came to rest in his heart.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jane laid in bed unable to sleep. She had closed her bathroom door when the urge to eavesdrop on Justin and Brian had become too much. She could still hear their voices but could no longer understand what they were saying. She glanced at the clock. It was two-thirty in the morning and she was exhausted. She dragged a pillow over her head trying to drown out the sounds of their lovemaking, but gave it up fifteen minutes later when claustrophobia set in.

 

Tossing the pillow on the floor, she dragged on a ratty pair of lounge pants and switched out her sleep tank for a tee shirt with paint on it. Tucking her cell into her pocket, she went to the kitchen.

 

Jane hit the button to start the coffee pot and snagged the clean pie plates from the dishwasher, turning on the oven as she passed. She made several trips to the pantry and refrigerator collecting ingredients and sat down to peel more apples.

 

When the coffee was done brewing, she found the biggest cup she could find and settled in to bake.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian didn’t know which sight should get all of his attention. The big, bluer than blue, of Justin’s eyes shining with lustful thoughts, or the wide stretch of his plump lips as Justin swallowed his ten-inch cock. He couldn’t decide, so when he could actually focus his gaze it drifted between the two.

 

He had missed this. He had missed their showering together and he had missed the blowjobs that came with them. Justin bobbed his head, taking Brian deeper into his throat, swirling the flat of his tongue around the wide, flared head of Brian’s penis, making him tip his head back under the spray as he was driven over the edge again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jane received the text at four in the morning. It confirmed the arrival of her husband for later that night and the tension she had carried for the last twenty-four hours finally lifted. She put the phone back in her pocket and surveyed the mess she had made in the kitchen.

 

As she waited for the last of the homemade dinner rolls to finish baking, she rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. When the timer on the oven went off, she took out the last tray, and wiped the counters and table while they cooled.

 

Justin watched her from the archway. She was putting the rolls in a large plastic storage bag. “You think I could have a couple of those? I missed dinner.”

 

Jane stayed silent, just finished what she was doing and put the bag in the pantry. Justin’s brow knit in confusion until she came back out with a very large apple pie. “Think you might rather have this? Twelve pies will be more than enough for dinner but I couldn’t seem to stop baking them. It’s still warm.”

 

Justin nodded and sat down. Jane got forks and set the pie between them. When Justin’s stomach growled again, she used her own fork and dug straight into the pie. No plates, no napkins, no manners. Justin gave her his trademark smile and did the same.

 

A few moments later Jane asked, “How are you?”

 

Justin was a little surprised that she hadn’t asked about Brian and said so.

 

She replied, “I have plenty of time to talk to him, but only a few days with you. I won’t tell him anything you say to me, if you’re worried about that, and I will support and help him get through whatever decision you make. He won’t be alone.”

 

Justin ate quietly and Jane gave him his solitude while she refilled her cup and made one for him. Justin thanked her, then answered her question. “He told me everything he told you, and I have to say I didn’t need to hear half of it. But it was nice. We talk all the time, but this time I got to see him. Really see _him_. I’ve had glimpses over the years, and frankly those peeks have been what keeps me coming back. Those little insights that let me know I’m not privy to all he _is_. The veil of mystery is gone now and even knowing everything he told me, it doesn’t change how I feel. I want to _keep_ knowing more. There is more, will be more, and I want to be a part of that. He wants me to take some time and consider my options, but I’m telling you right now, whatever he needs from me he will get, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Jane sipped her coffee, considering Justin’s statements while he ate, hoping he really meant them. He seemed to, and she would take it at face value for now.

 

Justin set down his fork, his belly full and the pie gone. “That was the best pie I’ve ever had, what is your secret?”

 

Jane rinsed the pie plate and left it in the sink. “Brown sugar instead of white, real butter, and a bit of nutmeg and cloves. I like the mix of sweet and savory together.”

 

“Brian said he hasn’t found anything you can’t do yet. I’m beginning to see what he means.” Justin complimented.

 

“Yeah? Well, he hasn’t had a lot of options, since takeout is off the menu here.” She joked.

 

“He does like his Thai food.” Justin smiled at her. “You love him. Don’t you.”

 

Jane smiled back at him. “Yes, I do.”

 

Justin thought he would feel jealous, hearing his suspicions confirmed, but oddly, he wasn’t. “The way he talks about you…I think he loves you too.”

 

Jane nodded, sipped her coffee. “Yes, he does.”

 

Justin waited for the wave of jealousy to make an appearance, but when it didn’t, he started to understand what was really going on between Brian and Jane. Maybe his brain didn’t quite get it yet, but somewhere inside, something was telling him that Brian needed her in a way he had never needed Justin. Jane was stepping into a role in Brian’s life, that would put her there forever, whether or not Justin was in the picture. He watched Jane watch him and realized that she knew this moment would come and had been looking for it. Had been steering him toward it and while he had declared that he would be staying with Brian, hell or high water, the real question was whether or not he could handle Jane being a part of their lives. A part of Brian’s life. A part that Justin may never get to share, but was instrumental in Brian’s ongoing treatment. That there would be things that Jane would know and Justin wouldn’t. That there would be a relationship that Brian would always have with her, no matter who else was involved.

 

Justin waited to feel angry, jealous, unnerved, yet nothing came. Nothing but an overwhelming sense of understanding. He didn’t have to fear Jane or her relationship with Brian. Brian had already showed him _and_ told him how much he loved him. He didn’t need anything else.

 

_But Brian needs her too. Just like he needed Cynthia, and to a much lesser degree Lindsay._

The thought popped into his head and he realized why Brian was still lying awake upstairs and Jane was baking in the middle of the night and into the early morning, despite both of them being exhausted.

 

Justin rose and turned off the coffee pot, then came back and took Jane’s hand, leading her upstairs, where Brian sat on the bed reading his computer screen. He closed it as soon as they entered and slid down to the middle space on the mattress, rolling onto his right side and inviting Justin to lay in front of him by extending his good arm. Justin gestured Jane to the space behind Brian and when they were all snugged in together, Brian was the first to go to sleep, his lightly wheezy breathing the only sound until Justin extended the olive branch a little further by saying, “Goodnight, Jane.”

 

Jane smiled in the darkness. Justin just might have what it would take after all.

 

“Goodnight Justin.”

 

 

* * *

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

 

 

 

People who bring sunshine into the lives of others, cannot keep it from themselves.

 

 

J.M. Barrie

 

 

 

 

Emmett poked his head into Brian’s room when he got up the next morning at seven. He wondered that he wasn’t surprised to find all three of them sleeping in the bed together. He heard the puppies moving around and gathered them up, carrying them downstairs with him.

 

Lulah, Lara, and Molly were already in the kitchen so he passed a puppy to Molly and one to Lara as he made the bottles. They were old enough to get into trouble if left on the floor and he didn’t want to risk Lulah tripping on one of them as she stuffed the turkey.

 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he said to his Aunt, “I told you I would help make the stuffing this morning.”

 

“I didn’t make it. It was in the fridge when I got here. There is also a bunch of extra pies, rolls, and various breads in the pantry. I thought you did it.” She said.

 

Emmett shook his head, walking into the pantry and taking in the largesse of baked goods. He also found a pineapple upside down cake, a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, and a many layered triple chocolate confection. Walking further he found fresh muffins and a strudel.

 

Carrying the last two out, he set them on the table as Granvil came in and made himself some coffee.

 

“I didn’t make them, but I’ll bet Jane did. I swear, that woman doesn’t know when to quit. I don’t think she has a single recipe that feeds less than twenty people.” Emmett poured himself a cup and bit into a raspberry muffin.

 

It seemed to be the signal for everyone to dig in and Emmett asked Lulah what still needed to be done.

 

She shook her head, “After this bird gets into the oven, nothing. It appears that Jane finished up all the prep work last night after we all went to bed along with her baking spree.”

 

Granvil cleared his throat as Marc came in from outside, letting them know Noah was on rounds and would be for the next two hours.

 

“I don’t mean to pry, as it isn’t any of my business, but is Mr. Kinney in some kind of trouble?”

 

They all shared a quiet look, but it was Marc that answered. “Mr. Kinney is a very important man and his life was recently threatened. We have reason to believe another attempt could be made. We are doing what we can to keep a low profile and make sure he is protected until his arm is healed and we have more information on who attacked him.”

 

Granvil eyed all of them, knowing he wasn’t getting the full story, but figured he wasn’t entitled to one. “I can help with that if you like. Take a turn with the rounds, maybe double up with someone else. Give you more eyes on the ground.”

 

Marc made a snap decision, “I can’t give you a gun, but we would welcome the help. Justin and Molly’s arrival gave us two more people to watch over. Come with me after breakfast and we will go over what needs to be done.”

 

Granvil nodded, stuffed an oversized muffin in each of his jacket pockets and left to milk the cow and feed the dogs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Justin woke first, being the one that had had the most sleep in the last twenty-four hours. He lay for a while listening to the other pair breathe and thinking about this new turn of events. Of all the people he and Brian had had in their bed, Jane was by far the most interesting. Not just the fact that Brian wanted her there, but also that her influence had brought the two of them closer together.

 

Brian’s marathon of dialogue last night was a direct result of that influence and Justin could be nothing but grateful to her for helping Brian be able to do it. Brian had related his early life in detail and Justin now understood a great deal more about why Brian was the way he was. It had also revealed how well Brian knew Justin and explained why Brian had treated him the way he did.

 

Justin still didn’t feel that Brian had been right in the _way_ he had treated him in many instances, but understanding _where it had come from_ went a long way to healing old hurts and resentments. It also explained why Brian would never tie him down and would probably continue to push Justin to pursue his goals for the rest of his life even if it meant they were separated geographically and that Brian would still be there when he got home.

 

All in all, he liked the results. He reminded himself to pull Jane aside later and talk some more about handling the nightmares, then he extricated himself from their sleep pile and headed to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

As soon as she heard the water turn on in the shower, Jane let out the breath she’d been holding.

 

Brian snickered, “Yeah, me too.”

 

“Does he know he thinks so loudly?” Jane grouched, rubbed her puffy eyes, and sat up.

 

“I tell him all the time, but he thinks I’m joking.” Brian rolled onto his back and stretched like a cat.

 

Jane realized the time was almost noon and stood up to go through her fifteen minutes of yoga she did every morning. Brian watched, just like every other day, and like every other day he still couldn’t figure out how she managed to contort herself like that. He waited until she was done, knowing she liked the silence, then said “When he went downstairs so early this morning for food, the last thing I expected when he came back was for you to be with him. I expected a huge queen scene when he woke up. What happened?”

 

Jane collected clean clothes while she talked. “We shared a pie and coffee.”

 

Brian teased her, “Sneaking Prozac into the pie is not the healthy way to address this situation Lady Jane.”

 

Jane threw a slipper at him, hitting him in the arm, as he laughed at her reaction. “I did _not_ drug him. Though I _did_ think about it when we were walking back from the car last night.”

 

“You are not going to tell me what you said to him to bring him around are you?” Brian asked.

 

Jane turned from the doorway to her room, “I didn’t bring him around. You did by _talking_ to him. You were right. He would have figured it out on his own, I just gave him a nudge.”

 

She disappeared to take her shower and Brian joined Justin in his. Another one of Jane’s playlists filling the bathrooms with music.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Emmett set the big table in the dining room with Aunt Lulah’s Irish linen tablecloth and napkins. A gift he had sent her three years ago for her birthday because she had always wanted them. He added her good dishes and the antique silver utensils she had found at a yard sale.

 

Lara was cursing her lack of artistic ability as she removed the flowers from the centerpiece for the sixth time.

 

Justin came in to find her jabbing the flowers into the vase willy-nilly and gently removed the next hapless stem she picked up. She stomped off and he made the arrangement himself.

 

“Thank God you came down here. She was trying so hard I didn’t have the heart to tell her she sucked at it.” Emmett stage whispered.

 

Justin laughed and joked back, “Yeah, but I don’t think I could go fishing around in someone’s insides for a bullet, so we can call it even.” When he was done with the flowers he set the squat, round bowl in the center of the table. “What time is dinner? I’m starving.”

 

Emmett snorted, “Baby, you are always starving. Dinner is at five. I’m going to take Granvil into town and help him with the extra food Jane made last night. We are giving it to the homeless shelter there.”

 

“What extra food?”

 

“Jane made a big salad, homemade breads, three side dishes and a bunch of extra desserts last night. You want to help me pick which desserts to take?”

 

“So long as you leave one of her apple pies here, I’m game.” Justin had had dreams about that pie last night and wanted another piece.

 

They were still arguing about what to take and what to leave when Brian and Jane met up with them in the kitchen.

 

“Boys, boys!” She pretended to get onto them like children and used her mom voice when she said, “If you can’t play nice, then I will have to ground you and I will send all of the desserts into town and you will go to bed without.”

 

They both gave her dirty looks and starting talking over one another about the merits of each dessert and why they didn’t want to send it. Granvil came in and heard the bickering, stepping into the pantry to see what the fuss was. It was clear in less than a minute and Jane saw a way out. She held up a hand for silence and when it was granted, pronounced that the Sergeant would be choosing which desserts went to the shelter and which stayed. Granvil puffed with pride and made a great show of deliberating each one before making the final choices. Emmett and Justin stewed halfheartedly and when all the food was in the truck and driving away, Brian turned to Jane.

 

“Lady Jane? Do you think you could teach me to make another pineapple upside down cake later in the week, dear?”

 

Justin stared at him as if he had two heads. Brian didn’t usually eat sweets let alone ask for lessons in making them.

 

Jane saw Justin’s expression at Brian’s feigned domesticity, not picking up on the joke, and rubbed it in, “Sure thing, Honey. How about Saturday afternoon? We can send the kids to the park and have the whole place to ourselves.” Her saccharin tone gave it away and they laughed when Justin figured out they were playing with him.  

 

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon going over the grounding techniques that Brian was learning and the best way for Justin to help him overcome an attack if one happened and he was present.

 

Regardless of the reason for it, Brian found himself enjoying their company in general and Justin’s budding respect for Jane in particular.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate and as he passed Justin the bowl he leaned a little closer than necessary and said under his breath, “Watch this.”

 

Justin served himself and handed the bowl along when Brian said, “So, Marc, you up for a game of cards later?”

 

“What’s your poison Kinney?”

 

“Poker.”

 

“Sounds good, anyone else want in?”

 

Jane nodded as she swallowed and Lulah raised a glass indicating she was in too. Brian slipped his hand into Justin’s lap and pointed across the table at Jane. “Hey, Jane? Who was the guy that won the World Series of Poker last year?”

 

She thought about it for a second, her brows drawing together, “I believe that was Jamie Gold and the prize pool was 85.5 million. He took home 12 million for the win. I think that was the highest pot ever in the WSOP.”

 

Justin wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be watching for but continued to eat. Brian gave Marc a raised eyebrow and Marc picked up the thread. “Jane? I haven’t given you a gun yet, do you know which one you want?”

 

Jane set down her wineglass, “I’ll take a Sig P220 if you have it. But a Glock will do if you don’t.”

 

“I have both, so the Sig is yours. I have a rig for it, but you will probably need to spend some time adjusting it.”

 

“I’ll get it after dinner if that is okay with you.”

“No problem.” Marc said and passed the ball to Emmett.

 

Emmett smiled like he had a secret. “I’m still upset with you Granvil, for letting that beautiful carrot cake leave this house. Jane? How did you get the frosting to hold up so well unrefrigerated?”

 

“A little bit of cream of tartar and cornstarch. It was a trick my grandmother used for years.”

 

Brian squeezed Justin’s thigh and when the blonde turned to him, he noted the glint of mischief in Brian’s eyes. Justin checked out everyone else and realized that the conversation was a game. A game where they all tried to find something Jane knew _nothing_ about. He considered for a moment and decided to give it a try.

 

“Brian sent me some of the stuff you all have been working on. I have to say Tempest is a very intriguing heroine. The juxtaposition of the futuristic and antique in her costume are perfectly balanced as are her use of modern weapons while riding an old world war horse. I should probably check with Michael and see if any other female superhero has a similar theme before we introduce her.”

 

Brian interjected, “I don’t think I ever saw anything quite like it when I went with him on his countless trips to the comic book store.”

 

Justin picked it up again. “I don’t even know if there were female heroes in comics before the fifties.” He sat back to wait.

 

Jane finished her last bite of sweet potato, “Actually, I believe the first female in comics was a character named _Fantomah_ in 1940. I think there were about a dozen more debuted in the next two years but the one that stuck and became the most famous was _Wonder_ _Woman_. Did you know, she was created by a psychologist and his wife along with their mutual lover?”

 

“No, I didn’t know that.” Justin said as Brian grinned like a cat that caught the canary. So Justin tried again. “Did Brian tell you I’m an artist?”

 

She refilled her wineglass, “He did. He showed me some of your work on his computer. I was very impressed. It is powerful and emotional, and the piece Brian bought for Kinnetik is one of my favorites.”

 

“One of? What other artists do you like?”

 

The other occupants of the table listened with rapt attention.

 

“In general, I lean towards the artists of the Dutch Golden Age.”

“Like Rembrandt, Vermeer, and Aelst?”

 

“They are all good of course, considered masters, but I actually prefer Rachel Ruysch. She was apprenticed to Aelst at fifteen years old and I find her attention to detail, like the insects in her floral pieces, to be both whimsical and realistic.”

 

Before Justin could say anything else, she continued. “Outside of the Dutch and their captivating use of light, I also like Waterhouse’s _The Lady of Shallot,_ for its vibrancy and subtle/not so subtle symbolism. I like your work because it vaguely reminds me a bit of Giovanni Boldini. He spanned the spectrum between realism and impressionism and I particularly like when he used both in the same work like _Spanish Dancer at the Moulin Rouge.”_

Justin was gobsmacked. Brian reached over and used one finger to close the gaping mouth of his partner and Justin pushed his hand away playfully.

 

Conversation flowed around the table but Justin only participated when he was asked a direct question. He watched Jane, very much like Brian had at his first meal with her, and he had to admit that Brian had been right. She worked the room like a pro. Both confident and easy with her knowledge without being condescending or superior. She handled topic changes and hot subjects with equal aplomb.

 

There was a mystery there, and he was determined to find out what it was before he left.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lulah, Emmett, and Justin handled the clean-up while the others set up the table for cards. Brian helped himself to a very large piece of the triple chocolate cake while Justin was distracted and was delighted to find a layer of cheesecake in the middle. Marc did his best to hide the grin when Brian went back for a second piece, but Brian caught him and swore him to secrecy.

 

As the poker game progressed, it became apparent that it would come down to Brian and Jane, again. She had been drinking wine all night and Brian was steadily eating his way through the desserts.

 

When Lulah went all in and lost, Jane’s face lit with an avaricious gleam. Marc stayed on as dealer and Lara started taking bets on who would win. Justin learned that the card game was a weekly endeavor and that the two of them had been known to play far into the wee hours as they were so evenly matched. They kept a running total between them for real money and Brian was only slightly in the lead by six thousand dollars.

 

Justin sat at the far end of the table, talking with the others, only peripherally paying attention to the game. Jane and Brian both had excellent poker faces and as far as he could see, neither had a tell that he could pin down. They both bluffed well and the lead wavered back and forth for well over two hours.

Marc’s voice cut into the conversation and everyone stopped talking to pay attention to the game. “Brian is all in with fifteen thousand and change. The pot is now twenty-two thousand plus. Jane?” He made a note on the paper next to him.

 

She didn’t even bother to look at either of them, kept her eyes on her cards and nodded that she would see the bet and said, “Call.”

 

Brian sat up straight and flipped over his cards, showing a full house of Aces over Queens. Leaning forward on his elbows his expression fairly taunted her. He was gloating and the deadpan look she gave him made an uneasy feeling roil through him. He narrowed his eyes at her and she held his gaze, no noticeable change in her eyes as she flipped over her cards one by one.

 

When she turned over the last one, Marc uttered “damn” under his breath and Brian looked at them. She had a straight flush, 2 through 6, in spades. He deflated. Jane’s expression still hadn’t changed, making him say, “Shit, Lady Jane, you could be a stone cold killer and no one would suspect. I haven’t caught a tell yet.”

 

Her face finally changed and the resulting look sent chills down spines and fine hairs to stand on end. No one could speak until she smiled a genuine smile and set everyone at ease again. They all laughed off their disquiet.

 

All of them except Brian. For the first time, he recognized something she had kept to herself. Brian was sure, in that moment, that she had indeed committed murder the same as he had. He was equally sure the bastard had deserved it.

 

Jane rose from her seat while Marc worked the numbers and the others went back to talking. She stretched the kinks from her back and moved to stand behind Brian’s chair where she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and leaned in to whisper into the ear the others couldn’t see. “Yes, I did. And I will never speak of it.”

 

She barely brushed her lips over his cheek and let her hand glide up his arm as she walked away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

To:BAK@KinnetikKorp.com

 

From: LinSaP@SBGal.com

 

Attachment 1

 

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving! I hope this message finds you happy and doing well. I miss our chats, especially now that I have big news.

 

Mel and I both got jobs in Boston and Gus was accepted for the spring term. Hopefully, we will be moved and settled in by Christmas. I hope you will be able to visit us for that holiday. Gus misses you terribly. I scanned a picture he drew for you and attached it to this email.

 

Please call me when you have the time. Gus would love to talk to you and so would I.

 

Love,

 

Lindsay

 

 

 

 

To:BAK@KinnetikKorp.com

 

From:Zephyr@LibertyComics.com

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving! I haven’t heard from you in a while, so I thought I would drop you a line. Did you hear the news? The Munchers are moving to Boston! Mel told me that Gus is going to attend some fancy-shmancy school there. Lindsay’s new job means she will have to travel and Mel got in with some big-time firm. She mentioned a nanny and I have to say, I’m not too keen on the idea of a stranger watching my kid. Think you could talk them out of it?

 

Dinner at Ma’s was unusually quiet. Something is up with her and she refuses to talk about it.

 

Look for me and Ben on the news on Saturday. The grand opening is being covered by two different networks. What the hell am I gonna wear?

 

Always Have,

 

Michael

 

 

 

To:BAK@KinnetikKorp.com

 

From:CinTAK@KinnetikKorp.com

 

 

La Perla is on for Jan. 6

 

It was the only day available, so if you are not going to be here, I suggest you fill me in pretty quick as I had to do a dancing act to get the appointment.

 

As you requested (in the middle of the fucking night), the house/van/education fund, have been set up. She should be notified tomorrow. I am not even going to ask. I know your secret identity. I just wish you had these urges during regular business hours.

 

As you can imagine, Justin has given Everett a run for his money and he is none too pleased about it. He’s been storming the halls, giving hell to everyone involved and is setting up new procedures for security details and monitoring.

 

Justin has had quite a few deliveries in the few days he has been gone and I have had to let several workmen into the studio for them to complete the work he ordered. You can tell him for me that if something is missing when he returns, it is his own fucking fault.

 

I am not going to ask how you are doing, since it has been confirmed he made it all the way to you. I can just imagine how you have spent your time since his arrival.

 

I am glad you decided to talk to Jane about it. If you are smart, you will tell Justin too. You have kept it to yourself long enough and I think it will do you some good to get it out.

 

As you know, I don’t keep things from you, so I will admit to telling Everett our history. He had already intuited some of it and I felt it necessary for my well-being to tell him the rest. I figured, if he could keep government secrets, he could keep ours.

 

I think I am already in love with him. What the fuck am I going to do now?

 

 

C

 

 

 

To:BAK@KinnetikKorp.com

 

From:TSchmidt@KinnetikKorp.com

 

 

 

Some interesting expenses came across my desk. Since when is Kinnetik in the habit of buying houses and setting up funds for strangers?

 

Are you sure you are feeling okay? Cynthia said it was at your request. I would appreciate a confirmation of that.

So far, everything is quiet on the home front. Debbie seems a little out of sorts and Carl has pushed off his retirement. Michael has been kept busy with the store and their foundation, but once that distraction is past, you can probably be expecting his usual daily calls and emails.

 

Get Well Soon,

 

Ted

 

 

 

Brian closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table when Jane declared herself the winner of the Scrabble game she and Justin had been playing. She commended Justin on his word skills and announced she was heading for the shower, leaving him to pick up the pieces since he was the loser.

 

It was ten-forty-five and everyone else was in bed, with the exception of the two of them and Marc out on rounds with Granvil. Brian picked up the score sheet and was not surprised to find that Jane had only won by eight points.

 

“Looks like Jane might have some competition.” he said, turning on the couch and placing a leg on either side of Justin as he sat on the floor. Sliding a hand under Justin’s chin and tilting his head back until he could kiss his lips. Justin let him in immediately and took advantage of their privacy by reaching a hand back and caressing Brian’s crotch until he elicited a moan from his partner.

 

Brian broke away from the lip lock long enough for Justin to turn around and kneel facing him. Justin tugged him closer to the edge of the couch until their cocks ground together. Then the kissing started for real. It was heated and passionate. Wet tongues dueling, noses pressed to cheeks and hands finding their way under clothing to stroke and stoke the fire.

 

Neither heard the politely cleared throat and it wasn’t until Marc said their names that they even knew they weren’t alone anymore. Brian came to first, his raised eyebrows and look of shock bringing Justin around to see what had caused it.

 

It was indelicately rude of them, but neither could help staring at the newcomer setting his bag and large metal case on the floor as Marc closed the door behind him.

 

“Tate, this is Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor. Fellas, this is Tate. Jane’s husband.” Marc kind of enjoyed their speechlessness. It was obvious that both men were admiring Tate and liking what they saw. He wondered, briefly, what Jane’s reaction to their perusal would be. The way he saw it, she would either be fine, or she would go ballistic. Glancing around the room and not finding her, he thanked God that he wouldn’t be finding out tonight. He quickly excused himself, rather than press his luck, and went back outdoors.

Brian and Justin looked at each other, then back at Tate. Justin’s first reaction was a clenching of his right hand to control the urge to draw. His second was to remember Tate belonged to Jane.

 

Brian just wanted to lick the man from head to toe and back again. He could have easily just stepped off the page of _The Last of the Mohicans_ with his long, straight, black hair and deep brown eyes. His sun-bleached denims fit as if they had been painted on and the oval, silver belt buckle did nothing but emphasize the package below it. What skin that was showing on his face and hands was unmistakably Native American in its dusky red-brown hues. His sharply chiseled features and slightly fuller lips confirmed his heritage. Brian guessed him to be in the neighborhood of six foot four and a long, not-quite-lanky two hundred-ish pounds.

 

Justin was the first to remember his manners, standing to offer a handshake in greeting. Tate accepted, saying, “Sorry to interrupt.”

 

Justin blushed to the roots of his hair and fumbled for something appropriate to say. Brian grinned like a madman and stood to offer his hand as well. “Forget about it. We are glad you could make it.”

 

Tate nodded, his eyes scanning the room and all other places he could see.

 

Brian unlatched his radio from his pocket and turned the knob to Jane’s channel. “Lady Jane?”

 

Tate smiled at the endearment, baring perfect white teeth. When she didn’t answer, Brian tried her two more times. He was just about to go up and get her when Tate put out his hand palm up, asking for Brian’s radio. Brian relinquished it and returned to the couch, towing Justin along behind him.

 

Tate spoke into it in a language they didn’t understand. His voice low and smooth, like silk sliding over velvet. Blonde and brown eyebrows rose at the undeniably sexy tones and both heads jerked to the ceiling when they heard a thud upstairs. It was followed at once by a door hitting the wall and the sound of running feet.

 

Tate set the radio on the coffee table and stood about four feet from the base of the stairs as Jane ran, tripped, and slipped her way down as fast as she could and launched herself bodily at him a third of the way from the bottom.

 

He caught her up as she wrapped herself around him, dripping soapy water, her towel barely covering her ass-ets. With her limbs locking him to her and each of his hands gripping just under her butt, they engaged in a ferocious lip lock that rivaled the one of a few moments before. She tangled her hands in his hair, latched her ankles behind his back and made no objection when he retraced her wet footprints to her room.

 

The door slammed again, Brian and Justin grinning at each other like fools.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was barely light outside when Brian and Justin both suddenly awoke to cheering outside. Brian rolled over, Jane’s scent still on her pillow from where she had climbed in with them around two in the morning. Jane, however, was missing.

 

The hoots and hollers came again and he walked to the window to see Tate and Jane engaged in some kind of martial arts battle. Tate was wearing only jeans and Brian nearly swallowed his tongue at the picture the native made. Every single muscle was defined. Ripped, cut, laser etched in rippling fluidity as he moved. He wasn’t body builder muscular like Marc and the effect was that much more impressive because it was evidence of an active and thorough discipline.

 

Jane ducked a punch and feinted to the left, swiftly moving back to the right and bringing her left leg up, sending her knee into his kidney. Tate had managed to block some of the force but was left with a reddening welt for his efforts. He grappled her with his free arm around the neck and she didn’t hesitate to step back into him and use his superior height to her advantage by bending and flipping him onto the ground in front of her. She seized the opportunity to pounce and drove her bare foot into his stomach.

 

Justin came up behind Brian at the window just as Tate grabbed Jane’s foot and yanked her off balance, toppling her to the ground with him, where he rolled onto her and pinned her in the grass.

 

The cheering came again as Brian and Justin left the bedroom to join the others on the porch. Emmett fetched them each a cup of coffee and settled in to watch. Brian’s stomach rolled over. It was apparent that neither combatant was holding back and after about an hour, Tate had a minor cut on the bridge of his nose that was bleeding and Jane had a fat lip. Both would most likely be sporting bruises by the end of the morning. They were both tiring and their movements were coming slower and less precise. Tate wiped at his face and in the process, smeared some blood on his cheek. Jane’s posture went languid and Brian knew the battle was over.

 

He glanced at Justin and noticed his drawing hand clenching and unclenching. Taking it in his own, he massaged the palm and the big muscle at the base of his thumb. Justin thanked him with a big smile, leaning into Brian’s side, and saying “I guess I should be grateful I didn’t deck her. She would have wiped the floor with my ass.”

 

Brian laughed and kissed him playfully, “Your talents lie elsewhere Sunshine and I for one, am appreciative of that fact.”

 

Tate went into the house only to return a few moments later with the metal case he had been carrying when he arrived. Jane squealed like a school girl and danced in place with excitement while he opened it and retrieved her crossbow. Within thirty minutes the group had managed to set up some targets on stacked bales of hay and she was happily firing bolt after bolt across the yard while they watched. Justin meandered off the porch and joined in the group as they stood arrayed around her learning how to fire the weapon. She gave everyone the chance to fire it after instructing them on its use, engrossed in her teaching.

 

Brian watched her with a critical eye. Tension that he had not even realized she had been carrying was gone. In its place was an easy, carefree, demeanor. She literally shone with happiness. Her eyes were bright and even with the fat lip she was prettier in that moment than he had ever seen her. She preened when her husband complimented her skills and blushed when he made an innuendo. She was yet another incarnation of herself and Brian wondered that one person could be so much.

 

Tate caught him staring, touched Jane’s arm, and whispered something to her. She smiled at him and returned to instructing Justin. Tate climbed the steps on the porch and sat next to Brian in the swing.

 

“There is no polite way to bring this up so I’m just gonna spit it out.” His voice was loud enough for Brian to hear him clearly but not loud enough to carry. “Last night was the _first time_ she let me make love to her without one of those fucking gowns on. From one guy to another, whatever you did to bring that about, I’m grateful.”

 

It was the absolute last thing Brian expected to hear and the incongruity of the statement with their quasi domestic setting had him uncharacteristically blushing. He didn’t know what to say. Especially since Jane had still ended up back in _his_ bed.

 

Tate must have read his thoughts because he chuckled a bit and said, “I already talked to Marc. I am going to take the night shifts from midnight to six. I don’t have a problem with where she sleeps.”

 

Brian rubbed a knuckle over his lip. He wasn’t usually embarrassed about his sleeping arrangements, but given that one of his bed partner’s husband was sitting next to him, he felt obligated to explain. “We aren’t…ah…doing…” he really didn’t know how to finish and simply shook his head at his confusion.

 

Tate let him off the hook. “It’s fine. Really. Jane is Jane and if she feels that she needs to be there, then there is where she will be.”

 

Brian nodded again and leaned forward to brace an elbow on his knee. He didn’t know where it came from, but it spilled out of his mouth anyway. “I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s smart, funny, accomplished and the most compassionate person I’ve ever known. Her mind is like a steel trap and she doesn’t take shit from anyone. How the fuck, do you keep up with that?”

 

Tate let out a rolling laugh and replied, “I can’t. So I don’t. I used to try, but I have found our relationship works best when I let her be herself. She wants me to be who I am and so I just return the favor. We have different interests, so we make the time to do something neither of us knows about and learn together. Like the archery, and pottery, and heaven help me, needlepoint. Though this year has been particularly tough to get her to stop working.”

 

“How do you mean?” Brian asked, genuinely curious.

 

“Generally speaking, she only takes two cases a year. With the way she invests herself in the people she helps it can be emotionally stressful and draining which can lead to her having an episode. The time she takes to work with each of them can vary from a few weeks to several months. The longer it takes, the more serious the illness, the more emotionally invested she becomes. When Dr. Anders called about you, she had just come back from a hard case that didn’t end well. That was the third one this year. The other two weren’t so bad, but she was already one over our agreed limit. We had an argument about her coming here. She was adamant that she could help and I argued that she had already done enough, the cost was too high given the last case she had. That she was putting you first over her own well-being pissed me off and scared the shit out of me at the same time. She slapped your file on the table between us and pointed out the systematic abuse you suffered as a child.”

 

Brian looked away, rubbing his fingers through his beard, uncomfortable that Tate knew something so personal.

 

“It was then that I realized _no_ argument I could make would stop her from coming here. The similarities in your histories was too close for her to even _consider_ **_not_** coming. She has been sending me emails and talking to me on the phone, all the while telling me she is fine, but I worried anyway. Now that I am here, I can see that I had nothing to worry about. She _is_ doing well. Happy even. It’s been too long since I have seen that particular smile on her face.”

 

Brian said, “It’s the first time _we_ have seen it. I didn’t even know she could look like that until you showed up.”

 

“Be that as it may, being here with you seems to be doing her some good. I owe you one for that.” Tate stood to leave, but Brian called his name, halting him.

 

“Would you like to see? What we’ve been doing, I mean?” He offered. When the tall man nodded, Brian led the way to the workroom and set up the computer to show Jane’s husband what they had accomplished together. Brian showed him which files he needed then left him in solitude.

 

Justin joined Brian in the shower a few minutes later and they spent the next while enjoying each other’s bodies then talking about what they wanted to do for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian pulled Emmett aside in the yard as they all finished up their chores. “Is there an art supply store in town?”

 

Emmett said he didn’t know but would find out. Noah wandered over, pulling his work gloves off and tucking them into his pockets. “You two conspiring over here?”

 

Brian sent him a charming grin, one that was guaranteed to disarm the dark man, and said, “Sort of. I want to get Justin some supplies so he can draw while he is here and Emmett is going to find out where we can get them from. If Marc thinks it is safe enough, I think Justin should go to town and pick out what he needs himself.”

 

“I don’t think Marc will have a problem with that so long as he has security with him. I’ll go talk to Marc now and see what we can do about it.”

 

Brian thanked him and sat on the back porch playing with the puppies as Lulah drank iced tea and gave him pointers on training them.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Emmett dug through the shed, moving things out of the way until he cleared a path to remove what he had come looking for. Granvil helped him drag the large metal frame into the sunlight and after checking to make sure it was still sound and hosing off the dust, they set it in the shade of one of the trees. Emmett went back into the shed and came out with the hammock bundled in his arms. He hosed it off too and together they hooked it onto the frame.

 

Justin and Noah left for town and Lara took the opportunity to give Brian his weekly checkup. Jane stayed through it and when the Doc was finished she closed the door of the bedroom behind her and sat cross legged on the end of the bed.

 

“We haven’t really had a chance to talk. How are you feeling?” she asked, taking his cigarette from him and smoking it.

 

He lit another and took the time to really think about his answer. “Aside from wishing I had a healthy dose of Walker Black, I think I’m doing okay. I haven’t had a nightmare or an attack in over a week, so yeah, I’m okay.”

 

“You know you can’t have the liquor with your meds, but I’m glad to hear you are all right. There has been a lot of change in the last couple of days and I worry that it will do more harm than good.” She stretched her legs out and placed one bare foot on his thigh. He immediately started playing with her toes and she used both of her hands to massage his foot nearest her. “I won’t lie and say I wasn’t pissed that he showed up here. Though I can’t say I’m surprised. If nothing else, he is persistent.”

 

“Yeah, you’ve said that before. He’s a good man. I think if you continue to keep him in the loop, he will do his best to support you.”

 

Brian tapped the ash from his cigarette, wincing at her choice of words.

 

“That’s the real problem, isn’t it? You think he’s too good to spend the rest of his life supporting you.” Jane pushed his pant leg up and massaged his calf.

 

“It would deprive him of the future he is meant to have.” Brian said it quietly, convinced of its truth. Feeling in his soul, that Justin was meant for better, brighter, things than constantly supporting Brian’s emotionally stunted turbulence. “I can’t do that to him. Even after talking to him, telling him everything about myself, I would still feel like I was holding him hostage. Forcing him to choose a future or me, and fearing the results either way.”

 

Jane certainly understood those feelings. Right or wrong didn’t come in to play. Feelings were feelings and no one could help which ones arose from specific circumstances. They didn’t even have to make sense. They just were what they were. The trick would be to get Brian to understand the difference between reality and fear.

 

“Do you love him?” she asked.

 

“You know I do.”

 

“Answer yes or no please.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you believe he loves you?”

 

“He says he does.”

 

“Yes or no?”

Brian huffed a breath and put out his cigarette. “Yes.”

 

“When you were twenty-four, would you have allowed anyone else to make decisions about your future for you?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“Would you have not done something, simply because they told you it couldn’t be done or that you shouldn’t do it?”

“No.”

 

“Not even if they told you they were doing it for your own good? That they had your best interests at heart and knew that eventually you would understand the reason?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then why do you persist in making decisions for him? He is a man full grown, capable of making them for himself. Good or bad, they are his to make. If he chose to give up art and travel around the world as a man of leisure, you would support that. Why is it so hard for you to let him choose to stay with you and support you? We all need love and companionship Brian. Yes, he will hurt you again, just as I am sure you will hurt him. But you love each other and that means working it out. It means understanding that there will be bad days, months, and even years. But it also means that he will still be there in the middle of the night after a nightmare and in the morning he will still love you enough to pretend it didn’t happen because that is the way you want it. You supported him when he came out to his family, you supported him after he was hurt, you supported him through college even when you weren’t together. Is it really so hard to believe that he would want to do the same for you? That he would love you so much that he would risk everything to help you? Give up anything to be with you? I told you once before that love is precious. None of us is so rich that we can afford to squander it when it comes. Grab onto it with both hands Brian, we know how short life can be. Grab onto it and hold it for as long as possible and maybe, just maybe, it will be the best experience of your life.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian sat at the kitchen table eating a turkey sandwich, contemplating his earlier discussion with Jane. Emmett puttered around, cleaning this or that, making trips to the cellar for the things they would need next and Brian finally came to the conclusion that Emmett wanted to talk to him but didn’t know how to approach him about it.

 

When Emmett ran out of busy work, Brian nudged the chair across the table from him with his foot until it was pushed back far enough to sit in, inviting Emmett to join him.

 

“Something on your mind, Honeycutt?”

 

Emmett pulled a face but otherwise ignored Brian’s use of his last name. “We’re friends, right?”

 

Brian shrugged, ate another bite, waiting for Emmett to make a point.

 

“Well, it’s just, you know, isn’t this whole thing with Justin and Tate being here…awkward?”

 

Brian considered how much to divulge of Jane’s marriage then answered honestly. “It could have been. But, oddly enough, it’s not.”

 

Emmett frowned. “I’m just concerned, I guess. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Their feelings I mean.”

 

Brian nodded. Emmett’s heart was in the right place and he was correct. They were all friends and his little group had come to love and appreciate Jane even if she was bossy and high-handed at times.

 

“Tate seems to understand her very well. I already talked to him and he pretty much told me she does whatever she wants and he doesn’t interfere. It is what works best for them.”

 

“They have an open relationship?”

 

“Not the way you are thinking, but in simplest terms, yeah.” Brian shrugged again, went back to eating.

 

“And Justin is okay with it too?” Emmett seemed skeptical.

 

“Jesus, Em, it’s not like she and I are up there having some kind of fuckfest. We sleep and talk about…things.”

 

Emmett colored a bit, “I didn’t think you were ‘sleeping’ with her. God, give me some credit, will ya. It’s just obvious the two of you care about each other and when I said I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, what I meant was, I don’t want you to get hurt when she leaves. I really like Jane, but eventually she will go home. You are my friend. I care about what will happen to you when she isn’t around to pick up the pieces. I want to help you.”

 

Emmett’s statements were heartfelt and genuine. Brian’s first instinct was to reply with a snarky comment on lesbianism, but he bit it back. He didn’t want to hurt Emmett, even if the big queen understood he meant it in jest. After all, it had been Emmett that had stayed with him during one of his episodes, and it had been Emmett that arranged for their current housing. Emmett took care of all the household chores including his laundry and most of the meals. Most especially, it had been Emmett he had trusted to help him with Jane.

 

“If you want…you could talk to Jane. She would be the one to best tell you how to help. She’s already doing it with Justin, but having a backup might come in handy.”

 

 

Emmett beamed at him. “I can do that.”

 

Emmett stood up to leave and Brian stopped him before he could change his mind about what he was going to say next. “Uhm, thanks. You know…for everything you’ve done.” He gestured, casually implying their surroundings, yet the meaning was so much bigger than that.

 

Emmett brought both hands to his own cheeks and shaking his head, heaved a happy sigh. “It was nothing. Anything for a friend right?”

 

Emmett tried to move away again.

 

“Em?”

 

He sat back down. Brian’s tone had been very serious.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Brian’s mouth pulled into a tight line, then a frown. “You loved Drew, right?”

 

Emmett’s face was a little sad even though he was smiling. “I did, yes.”

 

“Why’d you break it off?”

 

Emmett had no idea where this conversation was going, but Brian obviously needed something from it so he answered. “It was best for Drew and to a lesser degree, myself. He needed time to find who he was and what his place in the world is as a gay man. He just wasn’t ready for the long term. So I let him go.”

 

“Didn’t that hurt?”

 

Emmett’s head bobbed sharply, “It hurt like hell, but it felt right too. Sometimes I wonder what I would do if he came back and asked to get back together. I know it just makes me seem like and even bigger silly queen to you, but I’ve spent entire days thinking about it.”

 

Brian’s mouth pulled to the side, his dimple peeking out for a second. “It’s not silly.”

 

He could have laughed at the shock on Emmett’s face but asked another question before he lost the nerve. “Would you do it? Take him back?”

 

Emmett didn’t even hesitate, “God, Yes! I would jump on that roller coaster and ride it for the rest of my life if I could. I don’t think I will ever love anyone else the way I loved him and I’m not even talking about the sex. It didn’t even make sense, the jock and the queen, but we connected. You know what I mean?”

 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

By three in the afternoon both couples were in the workroom in a heated discussion about the introduction of Tempest. They watched all of the footage Brian had shot including the stuff he hadn’t included in the video or slide presentation. Justin and Tate were blown away with the sheer amount of work that had gone into it.

 

Justin had told Brian about his ideas for the special editions and his plans to move Rage online. Maybe do an animated feature in the future. The fact that he had yet to talk to Michael about it was both good and bad. Not even Brian could predict what his reaction would be, let alone with the addition of a new female superhero.

 

“I don’t think he will have a problem introducing her in an issue of Rage,” Brian was saying, “but I don’t want him writing her on a regular basis. Tempest belongs with us and I want her to have her own series.”

 

Jane nodded along, in complete agreement that she didn’t want a stranger handling what was essentially her life story.

 

Tate interjected, “I don’t have a part in this, so you can tell me to butt out if you want, but what if you went ahead with the introduction, then issued a stand-alone graphic novel? Something like _The Crow_ by James O’Barr. It did really well even though it was entirely black and white. The only color in Tempest’s costume is her makeup. You could leave that as the only color in the novel as well, making it different than what I have seen in comics before.”

 

This sparked a new round of discussion and Brian took notes on everything from possible layouts, to length, to issue pricing and the cost of publication. From there they talked about advertising and promotion, even going so far as to contemplate if a real movie could be made.

 

The excitement level was high, and as Justin did quick sketches by the dozens, Brian came to the conclusion that he, himself, was looking forward to this project more than any other he had worked on in the last few years. Jane seemed just as positive about it and liked that they had no intentions of sugar coating her experiences. It would be just as dark and harsh as it had been in reality.

 

Justin still didn’t know her story, and when he asked about it so he could draw some panels, her lips pursed. “You ever hear the song, _Sweet Lady Jane_ by Dakota Moon? Came out a year or so ago.”

 

Brian’s eyes darkened at the reminder. Justin said, “Had kind of a bluesy jazz sound right?”

 

Jane replied, “That is my story. Or close enough anyway.”

Justin made a mental note to look the song up later and listen to it again to refresh his memory of the lyrics. He was just about to ask her another question when Lara knocked on the door and told them dinner was done and they should come eat.

 

Justin stored his questions away for another time, then joined in the game of “Who can stump Jane?” at the dinner table.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.songlyrics.com/dakota-moon/sweet-lady-jane-lyrics/#


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

 

 

Just always be waiting for me.

 

 

J.M. Barrie

 

 

 

 

Tate had gone to bed right after dinner to catch a few hours of sleep before his shift started. Jane had taken her hour of downtime with her husband in the last empty bedroom on the first floor. Tate had insisted the room was adequate and refused the workroom, since they had already been using it for their project.

 

It was full dark outside by seven-thirty when Jane ambled into the kitchen in her pajamas. Brian was alone at the table looking through some preliminary sketches and writing notes on a legal pad of paper.

 

Jane turned the knob on the oven to the appropriate temperature and rummaged in the pantry until she found what she wanted. Brian watched from the corner of his vision as she set ingredients on the counter and moved to the refrigerator for eggs and butter. Her movements were warm and loose, hardly making any sound in her bare feet. She set an extremely large cast iron skillet on the burner and turned on the flame under it.

 

Brian silently crossed the distance between them and placed his hand on her right hip as he peered over her shoulder. “What are we making?”

 

“Mmmm” Jane softened into him. “Pineapple upside down cake.”

 

Brian turned his head just enough to catch her scent, which now carried the distinct flavor of male pheromones. The combination was heady and intoxicating. It was obvious she had spent her down time involved in sexcapades and the results were striking, punching him straight in the gut. His erection was instantaneous and somewhat baffling since he had just finished fucking Justin three ways from Sunday not thirty minutes ago.

 

Brian leaned down to nuzzle her neck as she dropped two sticks of butter into the skillet and they started to deform immediately from the heat. Her new scent was even stronger in the warmth of her neck and he breathed it in greedily. “Tell me what you need.” He said, rubbing his face in her skin.

 

It wasn’t lost on Jane that he said those particular words to her. The way he said them was the same as before, but the meaning was different. It didn’t however, change the way her body responded to them. She tilted her head to the side, giving Brian more access to her throat and he dragged his chin up the side until he was breathing in her ear. Jane let out a small sigh and smiled. “You could mix up those cake batters over there.” She gestured to them with a jerk of her head, effectively pulling her neck away from Brian’s face.

 

Laughter rumbled in his chest but never quite made it out of his mouth as he moved to stand beside her at the counter. He read the directions on the boxes and figured it was simple enough so he did as he was told.

 

Justin sat on the fourth step from the bottom of the stairs with his sketchpad on his lap watching them interact through the archway. He had intended to meet Brian and come up with some more panels but upon seeing them at the stove, took the opportunity to observe them while they were alone.

 

He already knew that Brian was a touchy-feely person with people he cared about and Jane seemed not to mind and even reciprocated in kind in the time since he had arrived. But this was entirely different. This was the two of them, in Brian/Jane land. Touches ran the full spectrum from simply helpful to playful to downright erotic.

 

When Jane added the brown sugar to the skillet, Brian took her wrist in his hand and licked the remains from her fingers before she had a chance to wipe them off. Their conversation was completely silent, consisting of soft touches, gliding hands and deep glances only the two of them understood. Everything was kept PG, but the intimacy level was palpable. It almost seemed to be another of Brian’s Jane Games but the easy sexuality and playfulness between them was not a game. It was real and tangible and evidence of a deep-rooted trust.

 

Justin was just about to make his presence known, when Tate stepped from his room and caught him spying. He almost stood, to beat a hasty retreat to the bedroom, when Tate shook his head, indicating he should stay. Justin made room for him when he sat on the stair next to him. They both watched their partners in the kitchen.

 

Jane opened cans of pineapple slices while Brian stirred. When his batter was ready she held the cans while he dipped two fingers in and retrieved some slices, laying them in the butter/sugar goo in the skillet. Jane set the can aside when the skillet had all the slices that would fit on the bottom and picked up the jar of cherries, unscrewing the top. Brian moved behind her again, back to his original position and pressed his front to her back each time she set a cherry in the center of a pineapple ring. She gave him a dirty look, not really chastising him, but letting him know that two could play that game.

 

She turned off the flame and reached for the bowl of batter. It was large and had three cake mixes in it making it a little unwieldy. Brian reached to help with it and Jane intentionally turned her side to him, pressing her forearm into his groin and her face into his chest, licking his hard nipple as she did so.

 

Brian’s abs clenched and he let out a gush of air in surprise. It had happened quickly and she had already moved away, adding some of the juice from the pineapple rings to the batter and stirring. He rubbed a finger over his lips and did his best to hide the smile. Jane was not fooled and carefully poured the batter into the skillet while Brian stood behind her again and scraped the sides of the bowl with a spatula. He held on to her hip, pressed into her back, and moved with her when she opened the oven and put the skillet inside, then stayed in tandem with her when she moved to the sink to wash the bowl and spatula.

 

He flipped to the side while she washed, threading his leg through hers and rubbing her ankle with his toe. She handed him the bowl and he dried it, then the spatula, and put them away. Jane got rid of the trash and set the timer, Brian wiped down the counter.

 

They met up again at the table, Brian with coffee and Jane with a Mountain Dew. The switch in gears was jarring and almost painful when they immediately started discussing Tempest like nothing else had passed between them.

 

Justin could have cried. His chest hurt from holding back the tears and Tate wrapped a consoling arm around his shoulders, saying, “It was a beautiful dance.”

 

Then he was gone.

 

Justin let the words roll around in his head. _A beautiful dance._

_A beautiful…dance._

 

Tate was right. He hadn’t been upset because of what Brian and Jane were doing, he was upset because it had ended before he had had a chance to capture it on paper.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Jane watched carefully as Justin helped Brian with the new physical therapy Lara had suggested for Brian’s injured arm. They were both doing well. They were conversing easily and Brian was doing much better answering some of the more difficult questions Justin was hammering him with while they worked. He had only looked to her for guidance once, when Justin had flat out asked him about the sex they had had together. She had nodded, indicating that Brian should tell him the truth.

 

It was the first time Justin had wanted to talk about it and with Jane’s approval, Brian relayed the event in detail, starting with her episode, the subsequent sex/non-sex, and ended with their discussion in the bathroom, all the while making sure to convey how he felt at each juncture of the scenario and why he did what he had done.

 

Jane was proud of him for being so forthright and honest about the whole thing. Her past wasn’t something she usually shared with people she had just met, but the circumstances were anything but normal.

 

Justin was flummoxed. Given what he now knew of the situation, he wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have done something similar had he been in Brian’s shoes. Shit, he had done it just because Daphne had wanted her first time to be with someone that would be careful. It made him feel even more humiliated at the scene he had made over it. He apologized to both of them, but it was shrugged off in standard Brian/Jane style and he had to wonder at their similarities.

 

Both could be harsh, abrasive even. Both were private emotionally but overt socially. Both were comfortable in their own skins and both used physicality to communicate deeper thoughts and feelings. Both had an inherent understanding of each other and what made other people tick, though Jane had a much better understanding of herself than Brian had of himself.

 

Jane’s influence on Brian, helping him to overcome what he perceived as shortcomings or weaknesses was evidenced by the more talkative and sharing Brian. When Jane asked Brian to describe one of his attacks he was reluctant but did it anyway so Justin could better understand his fear of them.

 

“My chest gets tight and it’s hard to breathe. I get bile or thick mucus in the back of my throat and I can feel the chemicals my brain sends out to flee, but I can’t. I freeze, sometimes, my skin is too tight and I get a raging headache, making my sinuses swell. My brain goes crazy, kaleidoscopic colors, and sometimes I smell things that aren’t there. I get bombarded with clashing images and sensations that make a Pollock look tame. I feel helpless and stupid, making it worse. I feel even more ridiculous that it sometimes takes help to get through it. The fact that I haven’t had one in a week is a testament to Jane’s methods and modern medicine.”

 

Jane’s brows drew together in thought. It was the first time Brian had described it for her as well, and though it was typical for _him_ , the color/sensation link was not a usual occurrence for most people. She came to the conclusion she would have to do some research on that particular symptom.

 

“Mine weren’t anything like that.” Justin said, as he bent and flexed Brian’s wrist.

 

“I know. I think that was part of the reason I didn’t associate it with anxiety or panic attacks at first. The only experience I had with them was yours after you got out of the hospital.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian stood in the doorway watching Justin and Jane sleep. He had fallen asleep with them, but had rolled over, suddenly awake at three in the morning. Knowing sleep wasn’t in the cards for him he had extricated himself from the center of the bed and removed the sling to stretch his arm. He sat in the desk chair, doing the strengthening exercises Lara showed him and smoked.

 

Over the next hour or so, Justin and Jane gravitated to the center of the bed and were now curled around each other. Brian smiled. It would seem all was right in his world again. After spending time with Jane, learning what Brian had learned from her, had gone a long way in building respect between them. Jane was confident that Justin could handle his new role and often pushed Brian to allow him to help, or confide his feelings. Justin was accepting and accommodating of Jane’s relationship with Brian and vice versa.

 

And here he stood, watching as they slept, finally getting an insight into what it meant to love two people completely. They were so similar it was sometimes amusing. They were both compassionate and temperamental. They both had very strong values and a deep sense of right and wrong. They were both open and caring, crafty and articulate. Well educated was too tame for their intellects and they both had the ability to just go with the flow. Justin had always understood things about him that no one else did, but Jane got him on a molecular level. Jane was fun and Brian enjoyed their mutual sexual teasing, but he desired Justin with every fiber of his being. Both of them challenged him, made him think, and scared the shit out of him if they ever decided to gang up on him. If that day ever came, Brian thought, he would most certainly choose suicide rather than face their combined wrath.

 

The puppies woke and he quickly took them downstairs to feed them, letting his companions continue to sleep. Bear scratched at the kitchen door and Brian let him in. He went upstairs first, checking the occupants of each room then did the same on the first floor and returned to the living room where Brian sat on the couch, nursing the pups. He settled his big rump on Brian’s feet and placed his head in Brian’s lap, much like he had at the dinner table Jane’s first night at the lodge.

 

Brian gave him a scratch behind the ear and heard the dog’s tail hit the coffee table leg as it wagged.  Brian chuckled, “Nothing beats a scratch behind the ear does it?” Bear wagged again and gave an impressive yawn.

 

“Am I boring you? Maybe you need a more intelligent topic of conversation?” Bear licked his hand and Brian grinned goofily.

 

“All right, how about politics?” Bear closed his eyes halfway as if to say, been there done that.

 

“Sports?” Bear’s eyes closed all the way.

 

“Yeah, me neither.”  Both puppies were finished and Brian lay down on the couch, placing them on his chest and rubbing their fur with his left hand. Bear repositioned so his head was in the crook of Brian’s right shoulder, giving the human access to rub all the way from his head to his butt, which Brian automatically did before he thought about it.

 

“How do you do it?” he asked the dog. “You have two ladies outside in your house. I would think that would be overkill for anyone, even a dog.” Bear’s shoulders rolled as if to say, I just do, and Brian took it as just that.

 

“Could you maybe give me some pointers?”  Brian didn’t want to think about what it said about him that he was having a conversation with a dog. Bear pulled away, staring him in the eye for a moment, then trotted off.

 

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I thought.”

 

He carried the puppies back upstairs and put them in their bed. He thought briefly about climbing back in with Justin and Jane, but knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep. He grabbed his stash, cigarettes and lighter from the nightstand and selected a blanket from the linen closet before making his way outside to the hammock.

 

He made himself comfortable and opened the silver bowl to roll a joint, only to find that Jane had already rolled the entire stash into fat cigarettes. His smile was both appreciative and accepting of her OCD. Putting one between his lips, he set the bowl on the ground with his cigarette pack and lit up.

 

The smell was comforting and relaxing. He pulled both legs into the hammock, covering one with the blanket and leaving the other free to the chill of the night air. He smoked with his left hand and let his right graze the ground, occasionally pushing with it to set himself in a lazy sway as he peered into the starry sky, making wishes on the ones that fell.

 

He thought about a lot of things while he swayed and smoked. He thought about La Perla, and the campaign he had for them percolating in the back of his mind. He contemplated Tempest and allowed himself to wonder just how big she could really get. Maybe even bigger than Rage. Hoped she would be bigger.

 

He needed to call Everett and find out if any progress had been made, and what the police were doing to bring his foe to justice. He wanted to call Cynthia and have a nice long chat about Everett’s merits in the sack.

 

He placed the now dead butt of his joint on the ground and lit another, paying close attention to the way the leaves rustled on the trees above him.

 

He decided he would make dinner for Justin, to go with the cake he and Jane had made then take him to the hot spring for a nice long private conversation about their future.

 

Brian couldn’t help the dorky grin that split his face.

 

“A penny for your thoughts.” Jane’s voice came from the darkness.

 

Brian sucked in a drag as she approached and held the joint out to her when she stopped next to the hammock. He exhaled ten perfect, tiny, smoke rings and she smiled, knowing he couldn’t do it unless he was on his second or third joint. She climbed in next to him, on his right side and inhaled a long pull on the joint, passing it back to him.

 

“I’m gonna make dinner and we are gonna have that cake for dessert.” he said, lazily.

 

“Wow, big plans in the making, huh?” Jane giggled.

 

Brian tweaked her nose for that comment and she laughed outright at his playfulness.

 

“So what gives?” she questioned, “I woke up to Justin spooning me, and while I certainly enjoyed him humping me in his sleep, I was a little worried you weren’t there. You okay?”

 

Brian snorted in amusement, not a sound he usually made, but the weed was good and he was far enough into it, to not care what he sounded like. “Yeah, he does that. Like, all the time. I have him completely and utterly trained to think of sex first and everything else second. Even while he’s sleeping. Be glad he didn’t try to blow you.”

 

“Yeah, I probably would have been a disappointment.” Jane deadpanned and sucked in another hit.

 

“Do you think he would marry me?” Brian’s voiced cracked a little at the end, but he definitely wanted Jane’s opinion, now that she knew Justin better.

 

“Why do you want to marry him now?” Jane countered.

 

Brian leaned up on his elbow so fast he almost dumped them on the ground, his face screwed into an expression of near anger. “I wanted to marry him before. But shit kept getting in the way. Like that damn art critic and Lindsay and Melanie meddling. Hell, even Debbie had her two cents to put in. Shit, Justin had just as much to do with it as anyone else did. He didn’t believe I wanted to change. Didn’t like what I was changing into. How come everyone wants a say in telling me what I should do, but when I do change, no one likes it? Want me to still be some juvenile man-child? Unless they want my money or my club or my help in their relationships, want _something_ from me! How come I don’t get to decide? Why do I have to have a reason to marry him other than the fact that I love him and want to see his face every day? Do I not deserve that? Am I not worthy of the things _normal_ people have? I certainly won’t be a perfect spouse, but shouldn’t I get a chance to _try_?!”

 

Jane blessed him with the biggest most heartfelt smile he had ever seen on her, just before she kissed him, full on the lips, and whispered one word. “Exactly.”

 

She got out of the hammock and walked just far enough away in the darkness so he couldn’t see her anymore. He heard her say “Congratulations. I wish you both the very best.” Then a few moments later he heard the back door open and close.

 

It was then he realized he wasn’t alone. He felt Justin before he saw him and knew the younger man had heard his little tirade. It wasn’t the way he had wanted to propose, but there was nothing else for it now that the cat was out of the bag. “So? Whadda ya say? Wanna make an honest man outta me?” Brian drolled lazily.

 

Justin’s stomach clenched and his heart flipped over. He took Jane’s spot next to Brian and when he finally trusted himself to speak, said “I don’t know what to say. You are already the most honest man I know.”

 

Brian’s heart sank. It sounded like Justin didn’t want him as a husband now any more than he had wanted him then. He lay back, silently cursing the stars and their fucking wishes that didn’t come true.

 

“Brian?”

 

Brian refused to answer and seriously contemplated going back into the house and locking himself in the workroom, feeling like he should have known better than to put himself out there like that...again.

 

“Brian, my answer is yes. I do want to marry you and not because you have changed, or want to change, or haven’t changed at all.”

 

Brian’s head swiveled so he could look Justin in the eye, making sure he was speaking the truth and not just what he thought Brian wanted to hear. The big, blue eyes spoke to him. They told a story of love and determination. Heartbreak and heartmending. Pride and humility. The tears that ran down pale cheeks were happy and full of promises. Justin kissed him, holding Brian’s face and tenderly running fingertips over his closed eyelids.

 

His voice lowered, heavy with emotion, “Yes, I will marry you. Today, next month, next year. It doesn’t matter. It’s only time.”

 

Brian kissed him back. Ravishing Justin’s mouth between great gasps of air, touching him everywhere he could reach and hugging him closer than he ever had before, and still wanting more. More skin, more tongue, more hands, more love, until the hammock was too confining.

 

He stood and pulled Justin to his feet then bent and hoisted Justin over his good shoulder, carrying him into the house and laying him across the empty bed, determined to make love to him until the rest of the world faded away.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Jane heard their shower turn on late the next morning, she made them crepes with homemade whipped cream and fresh berries for breakfast. When the water turned off, she carried the tray upstairs and politely knocked on their door. Brian answered wearing jeans still unfastened and rubbing a towel in his hair. He opened the door wider so she could come in and Justin perched himself in the center of the bed, a towel barely clinging to his hips and water still dripping from his skin.

 

Brian flopped on the bed next to him and Jane set the tray within easy reach. “Before you get started on breakfast I have something I would like you to do before you announce your engagement.” She handed each of them a pad of paper and a pen. “On your paper, you will find two columns. The first labeled: I want… the second is labeled: I don’t want…”

 

She folded her hands in front of her and continued, “I would like it if you each took the time today to be alone and fill these out separately. I think it is a good way to manage expectations, and it would also be good for both of you to see what is important to the other in your relationship. I will meet you both at five, in the kitchen, with your results.” So saying, she left the room and closed the door, giving them back their privacy.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Justin was sitting on the back porch after working up the nerve to ask Tate, a veritable stranger, if he would mind too much if he drew him. Tate had reached out and ruffled Justin’s hair like an older brother might and told him to “Go to town”.

 

Justin had already completed two charcoals and was mostly finished with a third in pencil as Tate worked around the yard and horsed around with Jane and the agents. Brian swayed in the hammock, his laptop on his knees, smoking cigarettes and occasionally watching the goings on.

 

When Jane came out of the barn on Dandy’s back, Bear raced around the horse’s legs, wanting to be a part of whatever was going to happen. Brian went into the house, briefly, to retrieve the puppies and sat them next to Justin. The paper and pencils were quickly laid aside and the pups got all of his attention. Brian smiled to himself and went back to the hammock.

 

He didn’t quite make it. Jane shouted, “Wanna go for a ride with me, Stud?”

 

She was teasing him, of course, since she knew he was still wary of Dandy’s size, so she was caught off guard when he agreed and started walking back to her. She recovered quickly and Tate had Brian on Dandy’s back, behind her, before the rest of the group managed to give him shit about it. Jane moved around until she had Brian’s bare feet in the loops, and set off at an easy trot. Dandy tossed his head, wanting to go faster, but Jane wouldn’t let him, for Brian’s sake.

 

She took him down the road, her usual route, and let Dandy canter all the way back. The others had all gathered on the porch and as they rounded the building, Brian remembered what Jane had said about the first time she had ridden Dandy. When they made it back to the bend in the road, Brian squeezed the arm he had around her waist and leaned in to her ear. “Stop holding him back.”

 

She looked over her shoulder at him, “You sure?”

 

Brian’s smile was huge, full of the child he never was, about to embark on an adventure. He gave her a loud, smacking kiss on her temple, “You taught me to sing, now teach me to fly!”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian bent lower over Jane as she stretched out on Dandy’s back _._ She moved his hand until she filled it with mane and yelled over her shoulder, “Don’t let go! Loosen your hips so they don’t fight his gait!”

 

Brian did as he was told, twisting his fingers in the thick hair. He scooted the remaining distance between them, hugging her hips with his and using them to guide his own rolling motion. When Jane felt him get comfortable she pressed further into Dandy, pulling Brian with her. Dandy felt the shift and surged forward, thundering down the lane.

 

_Jesus Fucking Christ! I’m flying!_

_Holy Shit! This is AMAZING!_

 

* * *

 

 

 

Noah had retrieved the camera and they had all moved to the front porch. Justin forgot about the puppies entirely when horse and riders came screaming into view. He had seen the videos of Jane, but it hadn’t prepared him for seeing it in person. It hadn’t prepared him to see Brian’s look of absolute joy.

 

He was beautiful, hunched over Jane, eyes closed in sheer bliss. When they opened, Justin couldn’t catch his breath. Brian was happy, overwhelmingly unadulterated _happy_. His eyes danced and his grin was so big, every secret dimple he had was playing merrily on his face.

 

As they rounded the house, out of view, Justin finally breathed again.

 

The cycle repeated, just as intense every time, for over an hour. When Jane finally stopped Dandy in front of the house and Tate helped Brian off the horse, Justin grabbed him by the elbow and pushed/pulled/shoved, him bodily into the house and up the stairs, determined to keep that look on Brian’s face for as long as he could.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian’s legs felt like Jell-O. A little shaky, watery, and tingly. Justin’s hurry to get him upstairs notwithstanding, he wasn’t sure he was up to fucking just yet, not sure his legs would hold him.

 

Justin thrust his tongue into Brian’s mouth as soon as the door closed. His hands were everywhere, doing his best to memorize every inch of Brian’s sweaty skin, his eyes open, taking in every facet of Brian’s face and the joy still riding in his mossy green eyes, the gold flecks radiating mirth.

 

Brian smiled into his lover’s mouth, liking the uninhibited and urgent motions of Justin’s body as it fought to practically crawl inside him as he divested them of their clothes. Justin knelt to pull Brian’s feet from his jeans, licking Brian’s inner thigh, balls, and cockhead while he was there. He swallowed the dripping pre-cum, grasping the base of Brian’s hard shaft, taking it into his mouth as far as it would go, in one long exceptionally wet slurp, tugging with his hand at the same time.

 

Brian gasped at the unexpected, slight, roughness and found himself pushed to the bed before he had time to think about it. Justin followed him down, pressing himself flat on Brian’s front, rutting into his hip, and running his hands everywhere he could reach while still laving his tongue into Brian’s hot mouth.

 

Brian pulled away, arching his neck, giving Justin permission and access to one of his most erogenous zones. The tiny spot right behind and below the hinge of his jaw, but not quite to his earlobe. Justin all but pounced on it, nuzzling and then dragging his tongue over it, exhaling a hot breath over the wetness, making Brian squirm and moan in delight. A small laugh rumbled in his chest and set nerve endings ablaze when it reverberated in Justin’s torso.

 

“Tell me.” Justin demanded, stroking Brian’s dick and breathing in his smell. “What were you feeling…riding that beast?”

 

Justin’s voice had dropped low at the last and just the sound of it almost made Brian cum. Brian barely hung onto his sanity. Justin was everywhere at once, hands and mouth engaging his flesh and as soon as Brian could focus on it, they would move somewhere else and start over until his whole body felt like a live wire sparking on wet pavement.

 

“Uh…like flying…mmm…yes. Or…aaahhhhaaa…like a…hhmmm…roller coaster.” Brian managed to speak around his lust as Justin continued to drive him crazy. “Never been…Jesus, don’t stop…but I imagine…yeah, right there…Holy Fuuuuck!”

 

Brian spread his legs farther apart giving Justin more room to maneuver. He gripped his own knee, pulling it up to his side, raising his head to watch as Justin’s pink tongue darted out and licked a slow, wet, stripe up his crease and sucked a ball into his mouth.

Brian hissed his pleasure when Justin placed wet, swollen lips on his entrance and hummed. Dark eyes closed, then opened again when the blonde demanded that he watch.

 

Justin went still, waiting for Brian to make eye contact. When he did, Justin gave him a huge smile in reward and pushed two fingers into his ass at the same time. Brian grunted but didn’t stop him, throwing out a hand to dig blindly in the side drawer for a condom. When he found it, he set it on his belly, and took off his sling. Justin looked like he was going to say something and Brian beat him to it. “You’re driving. I just want to touch you.”

 

Justin’s heart hammered and when he licked Brian’s nipple, felt his lover’s pounding too. Brian stretched his arms over his head, gripped the edge of the mattress and arched his back, pressing his ass onto Justin’s fingers and licking his lower lip.

 

Justin stayed still, watching that beautiful body repeat the motion, Brian’s pelvis rolling slightly this time, telling Justin without words how he wanted to be fucked. When their eyes locked again, mirroring grins on their faces, Justin withdrew his hand and made quick work of the condom. He had the tip of his cock at Brian’s entrance before the older man had had a chance to miss the fingers.

 

Justin hesitated, “Lube?”

 

Brian didn’t, “No.”

 

Justin nodded, knowing now what Brian wanted. He wrapped his arms under then around tan thighs and jerked Brian closer to him while thrusting his hips forward, spearing into Brian until he was balls deep. Brian made that delicious sound that started in his chest, stayed trapped in is throat for a moment, then slid past his lips with all the weight of a promise. Justin loved that sound. Wanted to _taste_ that sound.

 

He threw himself forward, mashing Brian’s legs up, and kissed those dark lips until they burned, twisting his own hips to emphasize what he felt. Brian made the sound again and this time Justin did taste it and it tasted like vulnerability and love. It tasted like happy and desire. It tasted like forever.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Brian mixed the noodles and sour cream into the crock pot and used a spoon to taste the results. He added some more salt and pepper, secretly proud of himself for making dinner. Granted it wasn’t very hard and Jane had showed him how to do it some time ago, but everyone had loved it and he made it by himself.

 

He checked the time and seeing that it was near five, rounded up Justin and sat at the table waiting for Jane. When she came in, she silently held out a hand for their lists, read them to herself, and set them aside. Folding her hands, she looked at them for a few minutes and started to speak. “Do you plan on a pre-nup?”

 

They both shook their heads, Brian saying, “Everything that matters, is already in both our names. Standard and specific Power of Attorney was done years ago. Bank accounts have been joint for almost three years.”

 

Jane nodded, “That’s good. Justin? Is there anything else, legally speaking, that you need from Brian to feel like a true partner to him?”

 

Justin’s head shook adamantly, “No.”

 

“What about you, Brian? Is there anything else you want from Justin, to feel like a true partner to him?”

 

When Brian nodded, Justin’s heart skipped a beat. Brian interlaced his fingers with Justin’s and placed their joined hands on the table, but he spoke to Jane. It was now or never, and Jane had taught him that talking about what he wanted was necessary in any relationship. “I want him to accept that everything I have is his and to stop fighting with me about making his _own way_ in the world. I want him to ask for and accept my help whenever he needs it, because I don’t want him to struggle like I had to do. I fucking hate having to watching that. It kills me to watch that.”

 

Justin’s mouth fell open in shock. It hit him like a ton of bricks. All the offers of money, a job at Kinnetik, his education, was Brian trying to protect him. It was Brian providing. Providing necessities yes, but also an avenue of fulfillment and growth, wrapped in safety. It was an expression of his love.

 

With this revelation came the realization that every time it had been offered and he had refused the help, he was telling Brian that he didn’t want him or his love. Justin could have swallowed his tongue. All those years he had been unwittingly pulling Brian to him with one hand and pushing him away with the other. Telling him with words how much he loved him, but showing Brian he wasn’t worthy of it by not accepting his help. And still Brian had offered. Over and over and over. Wanting to give, and being kicked in the teeth each and every time with Justin’s refusals.

 

Justin hurried to make it right, “Brian…I’m so sorry…I didn’t know. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

 

Brian gave a small, sad smile. “Sorry’s bullshit Sunshine. Besides, I didn’t tell you. So how the hell _could_ you know?”

 

Brian’s thumb was rubbing Justin’s and Justin decided to follow Brian’s example and put something that had always bothered him to rest. “I need you to stop pushing me away. No more elaborate schemes to get me to leave, okay? I want to be with you. Then, now, and for however long I breathe. Yes, you are older than me and have more experience in the world, but I know what _I want_ Brian and there is nothing I want more than _you_.”

 

Brian snaked his free hand into the hair at the back of Justin’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss, promising with his lips, eyes open, making sure Justin understood. Blue eyes smiled back at him, accepting the promise and giving one in return.

 

Jane cleared her throat, getting their attention. “Good. This is good. Now for your lists.” She picked up Justin’s first and read out loud, “I want: _Brian do to whatever makes him_ _happy._ I don’t want _: Brian to push me away again_.” Jane handed the paper to Brian and when he set it down on the table, read Justin’s words for himself. “Short list.” he said, and Justin grinned at him, shrugging his shoulders.

 

Jane picked up Brian’s list and read aloud, “I want: _Justin to stay, even when he’s angry with me_. I don’t want: _Justin to leave me again_. I want: _Justin to be a Dad if he still wants to be one_. I don’t want: _For him to do it without me_.”

 

Jane handed Brian’s list to Justin and stepped out of the room, telling them she would be right back.

 

Justin fiddled with the paper, not looking at Brian. “Do you really mean that?” he whispered, daring to hope.

 

Brian touched his chin, gently turning his head until their gazes locked. “Every word.” he said as he let his forehead sink to Justin’s. They sat that way until Jane returned with Emmett, Lara, and a sheet of paper she placed face down on the table.

 

Lara took the chair closest to Justin and Emmett took the one nearest Brian. With everyone seated and looking her way, Tate standing in the doorway, Jane addressed them again. “Justin? Do you understand that Brian needs love, understanding, emotional support, and patience from you? He needs to feel as if he is providing for you and keeping you safe?”

 

“Yes, I understand that now.”

 

“Brian do you understand that Justin needs to make his own decisions and needs to feel secure in your relationship, that no matter how angry, scared, or disappointed you are, you will not push him away, but pull him closer?”

 

“Yeah, I get it.”

 

“Will you both _promise_ , here and now, with Emmett, Lara, Tate, and myself as witnesses, to do your best to work through the hard times, no matter how long or short they may be, and to celebrate the good times, together, in love and understanding?”

 

They both nodded.

 

“I need you to say, yes or no, please.”

 

When they said yes at the same time, Jane flipped over the sheet of paper and wrote something on the bottom. Emmett, Lara, and Tate, all followed suit and Brian narrowed his eyes then burst out laughing, suddenly aware of what was transpiring.

 

Justin didn’t even get the chance to ask what was so funny when Jane said, “By the power vested in me by the state of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you legally wed.”

 

She slid the marriage license to them, handed them the pen, and when they had both signed, stated, “You may kiss your groom.”

 

Brian tossed a leer to the room at large, pulled Justin onto his lap and lip-locked him before Justin could catch a breath, while everyone else clapped and Emmett sniffled. Brian finally let him go and Justin looked dazedly around the room for Jane but she was already gone.

 

“Is this real? Like, really real?” _Did I just get married? At a kitchen table? With Brian barefoot, in jeans? Me in cargoes and a hoodie?_

Brian pulled him in for another kiss, effectively shutting down Justin’s ability to think anymore.

 

“She’s been ordained for six years,” Tate said with good humor, “so yeah, it’s real.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Dinner went off without a hitch, with the exception of Emmett making them cut the pineapple upside down cake like a wedding cake, together. It set off a raucous round of cheering and clapping and Noah made sure to get it all on video, for posterity, or joke material, depending on the viewer. He kept filming as Emmett herded them all to the great room where he had removed all of the furniture from the center of the floor and turned on the stereo.

 

“Okay you two,” he said, clapping his hands together to get their attention. “We couldn’t decide what to play for your first dance, so we narrowed it down to a couple of songs and you can pick.”

 

He hit play on the stereo and Joe Cocker’s _“You are so Beautiful”_ began playing as Brian pulled Justin into his arms and swayed with him around the room, their forehead’s pressed together, occasionally smiling or kissing one another. The heartfelt lyrics, while simple, afforded Brian the opportunity to stare into his husband’s eyes and let him see that he, himself, meant every word of them, before slowly dipping Justin back as the song ended and lingering over a sweet, somewhat chaste, kiss.

 

The next song to play was Harry Connick’s _“It had to be you”_ and there was a round of laughter as the newlywed’s hammed it up for the camera, exaggerating their dance moves and showing off their more complicated steps, twirls, dips and footwork. By the time the music ended, everyone was wearing huge smiles, including Brian.

 

The playlist switched to dance club tempos and they all joined in the dancing and drinking, congratulating the husbands on their nuptials as often as possible, just to watch them beam with pride. The camera moved from person to person, allowing everyone to enjoy the party while Brian and Justin slipped further and further into a world of their own, until Brian steered his lover to the stairs and they disappeared.

 

Jane smiled behind the camera, turning it back to the revelers as they partied like dawn would never come.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“He didn’t fall off the face of the fucking earth!” the gravelly voice shouted. “You need to find him! I want that sonofabitch to pay for what he did!”

 

Nick stared at the back of the leather chair wondering, not for the first time, who exactly it was he was working for. He didn’t know his name, in fact, didn’t even know what the man looked like. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not sure if he was being dismissed, or if he should wait for more reprimands.

 

He was just about to leave, his hand on the knob, when the voice came again.

 

“Start looking into his family, business associates, and anyone else that we could use to draw him out.”

 

Nick hesitated, but thought better of speaking. His boss was known for his volatile temper, and more than one man had turned up dead in the waters around Manhattan after crossing him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think.


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